She's Everything to Me
by T.A. Perrot
Summary: In a story that takes place after Voldemort's defeat, Harry Potter finds out just how much Hermione Granger means to him, and vice versa. This story may or may not be epilogue-compliant. T for safety, some adult-ish themes.
1. You Jump, I Jump, Right?

**DISCLAIMER: Obviously I do not own Harry Potter lol, that belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers and whomever else. But I think you knew that.**

Chapter One

Harry Potter collapsed into his bed in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. All he wanted right now was a good sleep. He'd just defeated Voldemort, after all. It would be his first peaceful night's rest for the first time in a while. For the past year, it had been hard for him to sleep at night, no matter how tired he was, because he was always worried for Ron and Hermione. He wanted to stay awake. He wanted to keep watch. His two best friends meant everything to him.

Now sleep was easy. His eyelids felt heavy and he drifted right off.

Hermione Granger, however, couldn't have been more awake. She sat on what had formerly been her bed in the girls' dormitory. Her arms were wrapped around her knees. All of her favorite books were scattered around her; she'd been trying to distract herself ever since Harry had left Dumbledore's office in search of some sleep. But not even _Spellman's Syllabary_ or _Hogwarts, A History_ or even _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ could keep her thoughts from wandering back to Harry. And Ron, of course. The way his eyes lit up when Harry left the room, realizing that he and Hermione were alone together. The thought hadn't filled her with joy, as she suspected it should have. Rather, it made her heart tear farther in two.

Ron asked her if she wanted to talk, and she told him she was tired and was going to bed. She didn't go to sleep, though. She sat on her bed all morning while the sun rose higher and higher, trying to distract herself by reading and watching the sunlight gleam off the broken window glass.

Now it was around ten in the morning. Hermione heard a knocking on the door, and for a moment, she hoped it would be Harry. Then she shook her head. What a stupid thing to hope.

"Come in," she called. Her voice cracked as she spoke.

Ron Weasley was the one to open the door. He smiled at Hermione like she was the light of his life, and she forced her lips upward in their own half-smile. She remembered kissing him last night and felt a surge of embarrassment. She wasn't supposed to be ashamed about kissing Ron... right? He was quite a good kisser, but she didn't feel anything there. It was a bit awkward, actually—like kissing a brother or cousin.

She stood up slowly and walked over to him. He hugged her, and she hugged him casually back, the whole exchange feeling totally friendly. Where was the attraction for this man that she'd been harboring inside for the past two years? They'd finally kissed, like Hermione had been wanting to do for months. Shouldn't their romantic interactions be passionate now? Shouldn't they both be riding a first-love high?

Ron certainly looked like he was. "Hey. Did you get some sleep?" He asked softly as he pulled away from her. He reached over and delicately tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, I feel a bit better," Hermione lied. She didn't want him to think she was making up excuses not to talk to him, but honestly, she felt so awkward after the kiss that all she wanted to do was avoid him.

"Good." They didn't say anything for a while. She could feel Ron watching her as she stared determinedly out the window. _Don't look at him. Just don't,_ she told herself.

Ron grabbed her chin and turned her head toward him. He looked into her brown eyes, then, and said the words she wasn't sure she wanted to hear. "I love you, Hermione."

Hermione froze. She couldn't move, couldn't think. What could she say to that? She didn't know if she loved him back, and she certainly wasn't in a position to think about it.

There was a pause before she spoke again. "I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date. No time to say hello, goodbye, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late," she whispered. She had no idea what had compelled her to say the old line from _Alice in Wonderland_, but she'd said it, and now she started to walk towards the door.

Ron caught her arm and pulled her back. "Umm, what? No time to—Mione, what are you talking about?" He looked terribly confused, as if struggling to grasp a difficult concept. She'd seen the look many times when they were in class together, but now it somehow seemed threatening.

Hermione swallowed. Ron didn't understand the reference, but Harry probably would have—

Why did her mind always wander back to him? Even now, during this important moment with Ron, she was thinking about what _Harry_ would and wouldn't do.

"It means I—" Hermione's throat closed off. There were no more lies to tell—not to Ron, nor to Harry; not even to herself.

So she ran. She pulled her arm free from Ron's grip before he could even make sense of what had happened. Down the stairs, out into the corridor, then just... running. Stumbling blindly wherever her feet took her. And that place happened to be the Astronomy tower.

Harry had been in there by himself since before nine in the morning. He'd woken up fully prepared to go down to the kitchens and get some food, but as he walked past the Great Hall, he spotted the dead bodies on the tables. The bodies of Fred Weasley, Lupin, Tonks, Collin Creevey, and so many others were being mourned by families and friends.

_This is all my fault,_ Harry thought. _If they hadn't tried to help me, they would all still be alive. Look at all the first and second years, just poor little kids. No one knows what they could have been or who they would have become, and it's all because of me._

Harry couldn't take it anymore. He sprinted all the way to the Astronomy tower. Once he got there, he clutched the protective railing, out of breath. Then he sat on the floor for a long while. How could he ever get over the fact that so many people would never breathe again because of him? How could he make it up to their families? He knew what it was like to live without loved ones. Their lives would never be the same again. It made his heart ache heavily. Slowly, he stood up.

He climbed up onto the railing. Was he seriously about to do this? All the pain inside him just gathered together, and it was too much. He couldn't handle it. There was nothing worth living for—

"Harry, please. What are you doing?" A trembling voice spoke from behind him. He recognized that tone all too well. She was on the verge of tears. He didn't turn around, though. He just called out to the cloudless sky before him.

"Nothing, Hermione. I… nothing."

He wanted to tell her everything, but at the same time, he didn't. She wouldn't understand. He could never escape this burning hurt inside of him. It was larger than life. He wished he could say this and make her get it.

"That doesn't look like nothing to me." She was standing down on the floor next to him, looking up. Tears ran down her cheeks, but he didn't dare glance into her eyes. If he did, she'd see all the pitiful shame and cowardice that comes with the desire to end one's life. She probably saw it anyway, but he didn't want to confirm it for her.

To Harry's horror, she climbed up onto the railing as well. She hugged one of the pillars for support and glared at him fiercely. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined her losing her footing and slipping, falling, down to the ground far below… where the impact would probably cause her to—

He couldn't think for a moment, as sick images of that possibility filled his mind. It made his throat close up. "Hermione, please. Get down from there," he whispered desperately.

Her hushed voice was still shaking. "I'll come down when you do."

And without warning, tears burned hot in his eyes and flowed freely down his face. He didn't even care if she saw him crying. He was about to die anyway. "No, really, you don't get it. You deserve to live. I don't. Do you know how many people I love have just died for me? And do you know how that makes me feel? They gave up so much, and it must mean…" He swallowed nervously. "It must mean I was meant to die. I shouldn't be able to live while everyone else…"

"Stop it, Harry, please, please, stop it," she sobbed. Her entire body was shaking, and Harry wanted her to get away now more than ever. He couldn't stand it if he killed somebody else.

"No. I need you to leave now." He couldn't even look at her.

"Harry, I'm not leaving! You're supposed to be alive! That's why you're still here, damn it, and not wherever dead people go. You were not meant to die. If you were, you would have died in the forest, hours ago, and all of the Wizarding world would be under Voldemort's control. Do you think that was meant to happen?"

He didn't know what to say. Her words made sense, but they only infuriated him even more. "I HAVE TO DIE! I HAVE TO MAKE UP FOR THE FACT THAT EVERYONE ELSE IS DEAD ON MY BEHALF!" he shouted.

"No you don't! That's not your fault!" she yelled in return.

"YES IT IS, HERMIONE, AND I'M JUMPING, RIGHT NOW, WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT." Harry closed his eyes and prepared to…

"IF YOU JUMP… I'M JUMPING TOO," Hermione screamed.

"FINE, GO AHEAD, THEN. SEE IF I CARE." His anger exploded from him, and he was about to do it. But then he opened his eyes to see that Hermione had let go of her pillar. Her feet were hanging dangerouly off the egde.

He gave in and looked into her eyes for the first time. Something lurched inside him as he felt the sincerity of her expression. His heart failed for a moment. She really would have jumped if he had.

A little breeze blew by—it wouldn't have been anything big had Harry and Hermione been safely on the ground. But since they were at least eight stories up, perched precariously on a thin railing, it felt like a hurricane. The force pushed Harry backwards, and he landed flat on his back on the balcony floor. But it made Hermione's shoes slide around. She lost her footing and toppled over the other side.

Her piercing scream brought Harry to his feet. The only thing keeping her from falling was her hand, which was gripping the railing for dear life. Her knuckles were white, and her feet below scrambled for something to push onto.

Panic clouded his brain. He couldn't think properly; he could only act on instinct. So he found her other hand and pulled as hard as he could. He also grabbed her waist as soon as it was within reach. With one final tug, she rolled over the railing, breathing hard. Harry, too, was panting. He tried to relax. She was fine now, but it had been close.

He had almost killed somebody else. He was completely disgusted with himself. It had been all his fault that this had happened. If he hadn't made her scared for him, she wouldn't have fallen over.

She was lying on the cold stone floor, her eyes wide. Harry's hand flew to his mouth. She was alive, but imagining the alternative made him feel sick. Hermione's body crumpled on the grass, her spine twisted grotesquely, the light forever extinguished from her warm brown eyes...

He leaned over the railing and vomited. That image had almost been reality.

Upon hearing the retching, Hermione stood up. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Harry?" she asked, fear saturating her voice.

Harry straightened up and turned around. Her face was inches from his. Instinctively, he pulled her into a tight embrace. It was only natural to be grateful that his best friend was alive... right? Of course it was. Although it seemed to be something stronger than gratitude that made him wrap his arms tighter around her. She responded by burying her face in his neck, and Harry couldn't help but notice how comfortable it was. Neither of them said anything for a long while, until Harry finally broke the silence.

"Hermione, are you mental?" he murmured in her ear.

"You're kidding me. You were the one who was going to do it first!" Her voice was still trembling a bit, but she sounded hugely relieved.

"Yeah, but... why would you follow me? You have your whole life ahead of you—"

"No life is worth living without my best friend." She broke the hug and smiled at him. The look in her eyes made Harry's heart skip about five beats. "Besides, you have your whole life ahead of you, too. You still have so many years left to do great things, Harry Potter, and I don't ever want you throwing that away."

"I've already done great things." He pointed at himself in fake arrogance. "I killed the most evil wizard of all time, at age seventeen!"

They both burst out laughing. As they joked and laughed, Harry realized how wonderful and familiar and comforting this felt to him. It occurred to him that he couldn't live without her. If she weren't in his life, he would be physically unable to survive. He'd never been fully able to appreciate this fact before.

Hermione was always there for him, and she always would be. After all these years, Harry had never believed her when she said she was in it until the end... but today, she had been willing to end her own life for him. He was still having trouble wrapping his head around the concept. He looked at her smiling face, and his heart swelled. Without a word, he reached forward and took her hand. An electric current that had never been there before flowed through his arm.

Without conscious direction from his brain, he leaned in toward her face, and she leaned as well, and she was getting closer, and their faces were two inches apart, now just an inch, and he could feel her warm breath on his mouth and he closed his eyes and parted his lips and—

An owl landed on the railing and hooted loudly. Hermione jumped backwards and shrieked. Harry straightened up and shook his head, trying to figure out what had just happened. Now that the owl had broken the sort of trance that they'd been in, he could think properly again. Had he and Hermione almost... kissed? What had gotten into them? And was Harry now disappointed that it hadn't happened? No. No, not at all. He was just a bit startled, that was all. He felt his face go hot.

They were both silent for a moment. Then—

"I'm getting hungry," Hermione said. "I'm sure you are too, after the morning you've had. Come on; they're probably serving lunch in the Great Hall."

Harry put his arm around her shoulders and she put his arm around her waist and they made their way down together.

No one else seemed to be wandering around the damaged castle, which gave Harry the feeling that he and Hermione were the only two people in the world. He loved it so much. It wasn't until they were on the third floor that they heard footsteps. To Harry's surprise, Hermione pulled quickly away from him when she heard the noise.

"You all right?" Harry asked, wondering what that had been about.

"Oh, yes... Yes, I'm fine," Hermione said distractedly, her eyes darting around the deserted corridor.

Harry suddenly understood. "You thought that was Ron, didn't you? You didn't want him to see us together?"

"Well..."

"You can tell me if it's true."

"Harry, it's not like that—"

"I'm serious, Hermione, you don't have to spare my feelings. I shouldn't be touching you or anything if you're dating him. I get it. Honestly, I do."

"No! I just don't want to make him feel worse about—"

"Yeah, he's an insecure git, I know," he said, cutting her off.

Hermione shook her head. "How can you say that? He's your best friend."

"One of my best friends," Harry corrected. He honestly didn't know what had come over him. He'd never said anything bad about Ron unless they were in a fight... which they hadn't been in quite a while. Where was the sudden animosity coming from?

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed.

He didn't say anything; he just patted her affectionately on the shoulder and walked down the stairs in front of her. Why did this hurt him so badly? Hermione had chosen Ron, so what? It wasn't even a choice. Choosing Harry wasn't an option. She'd always wanted Ron—this was nothing new. Harry had never even been a contender, nor had he desired to be.

So... why was he so upset all of a sudden?

**AN: Thanks for reading! I'll try to post the next chapter soon!**


	2. I Need You Now

**DISCLAIMER: ******Obviously I do not own Harry Potter lol, that belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers and whomever else. But I think you knew that.****

**AN: Wow! Thanks for reading, you guys! I really never would have expected this story to get the response it's gotten; I thought it would get buried in the H/Hr slush pile before anyone even read it. Thank you sooo much for all the kind reviews! You're awesome! I hope you like this next chapter.**

Chapter Two

Hermione just stood there and watched Harry walk away. He didn't get it! She just didn't want Ron to see her with Harry because Ron had always been irrationally jealous of them, and Hermione didn't want to exacerbate the problem. But now maybe he had a reason to be jealous...

No, no he didn't. Hermione had never thought of Harry that way... had she? Her mind flashed back to a few minutes ago, when she'd first seen him standing on the railing. It felt like her heart was already down on the ground waiting for him. Then, a few hours ago, when Hagrid had carried his body from the forest, apparently dead, she'd let out a strangled, primitive cry—a noise that didn't even sound like it could have come from her own body. She'd felt ready to pitch herself off the Astronomy tower, just so she could be with him one last time. Instead she'd fallen into Ron's arms, sobbing, wishing she hadn't lost her chance to tell Harry—

_What, exactly, did you want to tell him, Hermione?_ she asked herself. _That you would do anything for him? That you would have died to save him—you would have gone instead? That you would have gladly faced a hundred Voldemorts so he didn't have to expire before his time? That you are totally and completely in lo—_

She scratched that last thought from her mind before it could even finish materializing. Now was not the time to sort out any feelings she may—or may not—have for her best friend. She couldn't handle this.

As if on cue, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Hermione turned around quickly and saw that it was Ron. He walked toward her, looking awkward.

"Hey, Mione, can we talk?" Ron asked her, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. She swallowed and nodded nervously. Her palms were starting to sweat.

"Listen," Hermione began, "I'm really sorry for the way I reacted. I just really wasn't expecting you to, you know, say what you did. And I was shocked and I... I'm sorry. That must have hurt you to see me just run away..."

He kept his eyes down to avoid looking at her. "It did. It hurt. But I'm not mad at you. I could never be mad at you."

Hermione tried to believe him, but she knew it wasn't true. On the other hand, if Harry had said the same thing to her...

She was talking to Ron. Thoughts of Harry were forbidden from her mind. Even if she did love...

"Hello?" Ron's hand waved in front of Hermione's face. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head, whether to him or herself, she wasn't sure. "I'm fine. Just thinking, that's all."

Ron clapped his hands over his eyes and groaned. "God, I'm such an idiot! I shouldn't have told you that I love you. It just made you hate me—"

"I don't hate you!" Hermione insisted, and it was complete truth. Whatever she felt—or, rather, didn't feel—towards him, it wasn't hate. "I'm just not ready for this. Of course I love you as my brother and friend, and maybe there's more beyond that. I don't think there is, but I'm just not sure."

He sighed heavily. "Is that why you kissed me, then? To try and figure it out?"

Hermione's mind gave a start. Of course that was why she'd kissed him! She'd been feeling attraction to him, and she just wanted to decide if it meant anything. Now that her motives behind the rash action had been determind, she felt much better.

"Yes, that's why I kissed you."

"And you were disappointed." Ron smiled dryly.

"Well I... I wasn't _disappointed_ exactly, but..."

"It wasn't what you hoped, I understand. And you don't love me."

She tried to cut him off, but he just continued speaking.

"But don't worry, Hermione. It was everything I've ever hoped for. Much better than kissing Lavender. And I can wait. I've loved you for the past four years, and I've waited all that time. You can take all the time you need. And I can wait."

Hermione had no idea what she could say to this. So she hugged him, and he seemed disappointed, but she couldn't just pretend that she was in love with him. It would end badly at some point. She pulled away and looked up at him, feeling guilty because she didn't feel anything.

Ron waved sadly at her then started walking down the stairs. She watched him until he got halfway down, then she called out to him.

"RON!"

He turned around like a puppy called by its owner. "Yes?"

Ten very slow seconds ticked by as they just looked at each other.

"Don't wait for me."

Ron's face fell.

Hermione looked down.

Ron walked away.

Once he was gone, she stood there in the corridor for Merlin knows how long. Her stomach began to grumble, and her eyes began to grow heavy, and she knew she should probably go do something, but Hermione couldn't make herself move. She just stood completely still until a small redheaded figure came bouncing up the stairs.

"Oh, Hermione, there you are!" Ginny exclaimed. "We're leaving soon, to go back home. Are you coming?"

"What?" Hermione asked. Ginny's words hadn't registered in her mind at all.

"You're coming, right? Back to the Burrow? For Fred's... you know... funeral." Ginny picked at her fingernails, trying to look nonchalant. Hermione knew how she hated to cry.

"Of course I'm coming." Hermione hugged Ginny, trying to be comforting without saying much. She knew there wasn't much you could say when someone died.

After a few seconds, they broke apart. "Thanks," Ginny said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Have you seen Harry, by the way? I don't know if Ron told him, and he'd probably like to come as well."

_Yes, I'm sure _that's_ why you want to talk to him,_ Hermione thought sarcastically. Then she shook her head. Why did it even matter to her? Ginny and Harry's relationship was their business.

She remembered when Harry had the hots for Ginny last year—for a lack of better expression. Whenever Ginny was around, he only had eyes for her her, no matter how Hermione tried to get his attention. Not that she could blame him. Ginny was a great Quidditch player; plus she was funny, fierce, daring, and a whole heck of a lot prettier than Hermione.

"Harry went down to the Great Hall, last I heard," Hermione said.

Ginny looked puzzled. "I was just in there with my family, and he wasn't there."

"Did you check the kitchens?"

"People can get into the kitchens? Whoa! I always wondered how Fred and George—" she cut off in the middle of her sentence upon remembering her brother again.

At that moment, Harry and Ron walked up the stairs toward the girls. "You two ready to go?" Harry asked. "Mrs. Weasley's waiting downstairs. They've set up a Floo connection in McGonagall's office."

"Yeah, let's get out of here," Ginny said. The four of them walked together, Hermione sandwiched between Harry and Ron. Her fact felt hot. She didn't want to be around either of them—they were both upset with her!

Harry and Ron weren't actually upset with her; rather, they were both jealous of each other.

_Of course Ron should be more important than me,_ Harry lamented. _She's with him now. I need to get over it. She can't hold my hand or hug me or anything anymore. Ugh. He is so lucky._

_It's because of Harry, isn't it?_ Ron grumbled. _She's always wanted him. I'll bet that's why she doesn't want to go out with me. She's afraid Harry will remember their little make-out sessions from when I wasn't around and he'll get jealous._

The mood at the Burrow was very sullen. Percy, George, Ron, and Ginny went to their separate rooms while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley made arrangements to meet with a funeral director. Hermione settled herself in Bill's old room, where she would be staying, with several books and a large mug of tea.

Harry didn't know where to go. He didn't want to be around Ron at the moment, because he feared he might say something he'd regret. So he went out to the broom shed and browsed the Weasleys' collection.

The bright, sunny day seemed to be mocking the mood everyone was in. It would be logical to think that everyone would be happy: Voldemort was dead, and they were all safe. But none of that matters when a family member dies.

Harry found a Comet that was on the newer side, mounted it, and kicked off the ground. The second he sliced through the air, he felt relaxed and calm. All his worries were left on the ground. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed flying. He took a few loops around the house then decided to challenge himself by flying up the hill and into the woods. Skillfully weaving in and out of tree branches, it was easy to pretend he was playing a game of Quidditch.

After about an hour, he descended onto the Weasleys' lawn and put the broom away. Once he shut up the shed, he turned around to go back inside, and who should he see but Ginny? She leaned against the exterior wall of the house.

"I've always admired the way you fly," she said once he was within earshot. "You turn so smoothly, even riding that crappy Comet."

"Thanks." Harry smiled at the compliment. "Wanna join me?"

"Mmm, not right now," Ginny mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. "I kind of wanted to talk to you about something..."

"Sure." Harry's heartbeat sped up. Why did he feel so nervous all of a sudden?

She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of sight of the living room window. From her own window on the fourth floor, Hermione saw something moving in the corner of her eye. When she realized it was Harry and Ginny, she knew she shouldn't watch... but she couldn't help herself...

"I've really missed you," Ginny said. "Hogwarts wasn't the same without you. It wasn't really the same at all, actually." She laughed weakly.

"That's not exactly funny, Gin. Tons of people got hurt because of the Carrows." Harry tried as best he could to keep his voice even-tempered.

She still noticed his tone. "No, it—I'm not saying it was funny, I just—"

"Whatever. Let's just drop it." Harry didn't want to upset Ginny. For now, while Ron and Hermione were together, he only had her to fall back on.

"You're right. Sorry." She looked down and kicked her shoes into the grass.

"It's oka—"

Harry was cut off in the middle of his sentence when Ginny kissed him. He didn't realize what was happening at first; it wasn't until she put her hands on his face and pressed her body against him that he understood. Harry was used to kissing Ginny, so it at least felt natural. Somehow, though, he didn't enjoy it as much as he suspected he ought to have. He tried to pull back, but she kept moving closer...

At this point, Hermione had seen quite enough. She yanked the curtains shut and curled up on the bed. Tears began to leak from her eyes. _Why are you crying?_ she asked herself. _Why on earth could you possibly be crying? Just stop it. This is stupid. So what if Harry loves Ginny? It doesn't matter. Ron loves you. Go kiss him if you want to kiss someone so badly._

Except that wasn't it. She didn't care about kissing anyone. It was the thought that someone else could make Harry more happy than she could. For years, she'd been the most important girl in his life. He'd even defended her against Cho when the two had been going out. Hermione had thought it was sweet when Harry and Ginny dated last year. She saw the way he looked at Ginny, and she wanted him to be happy. She'd even tried to set them up. None of that troubled her, though, because at the end of the day, Hermione was the one he came to when he was stressed. She was the one to comfort him, she was the one to cheer him up, she was the one to offer him words of advice, and she was the one to whip him into shape when he started doubting himself. Heck, she even gave him relationship advice!

Now it was different. Harry and Hermione hadn't talked since their misunderstanding that morning. Harry was probably a bit worried and seeking someone to advise him, so he found Ginny. They went outside to talk, and then he saw how lovely she looked in the sunlight and forgot all about Hermione, because the only thing he cared about was being as close to Ginny as physically possible—

Hermione had to stop thinking about this. She was starting to feel sick. Her heart was heavy and hollow at the same time. No matter what she did, she would never measure up to Ginny. At that thought, sobs racked her body and the tears wouldn't stop falling. She was going to lose her best friend.

**AN Again: I know I posted this really quickly after the first one lol, it's just that the first half of this was originally in the first chapter, but then it would have been way too long. I'm normally not going to update this fast, sorry :P**


	3. And Just to Clear the Air

**DISCLAIMER: Obviously I do not own Harry Potter lol, that belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers and whomever else. But I think you knew that.**

**AN: Oh my gosh, sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up! Normally I'm going to update on Mondays and Fridays. So one more day till the next chapter!**

Chapter Three

Outside Hermione's obscured window, Harry struggled with Ginny. He tried to extract himself from her grip, but she'd latched tightly onto him. Eventually, he gave up and bit her on the lip. Hard.

Ginny pulled away. "Ouch!" she cried, nursing her bleeding lip.

"Sorry," Harry said. He didn't quite mean it, but he didn't know what else to do. For some reason, kissing Ginny felt wrong.

"It's all right," she replied. "I'm sorry for... the surprise attack." She paused here for an awkward laugh. "I just wanted to kiss you again. I really have missed you. I miss when we used to hang out and have fun, before all this You-Know-Who business came up. I wish we could forget it all and go back to how we used to be..."

Harry didn't say anything. He didn't wish anything was like it used to be. He was perfectly safe, and his scar wasn't hurting anymore. He wouldn't go back to sixth year for anything.

It was true that his first real relationship had been with Ginny, and although he'd enjoyed it very much, he wasn't convinced that it was anything more than crazy teenage lust. He was a completely different person now than he had been then—what had before seemed like an everlasting love now just seemed like a childish game.

Without a word, Harry turned and went back inside. Ginny called after him but didn't follow. He had to talk to Hermione.

He took the stairs two at a time all the way up to the fourth floor and burst into Bill's room. He was about to greet Hermione, but he noticed instantly that something was off. She was curled up under the blankets and sobbing. When he saw this, he forgot about all of his problems.

"Hermione?" he asked, moving towards the bed and falling onto his knees next to her. "Are you all right? What happened?" He couldn't stand to see her like this, and he wanted to do all he could to make her feel better.

She just shook her head. "N-n-nothing, it's not that important."

"Clearly it is, if it's upsetting you this much," Harry argued.

Neither of them spoke for a little while. Harry was about to accept that she didn't want to talk about it when she suddenly broke the silence.

"Harry, we're always going to be best friends, right? Even if you and Ginny start seeing each other, that's not going to affect us, is it? You know I want you to be happy, but I don't think I could stand it if she... replaced me." Hermione avoided his eyes.

When Harry heard this, he couldn't help but laugh. "Is that what you're all worried about?" he asked incredulously.

Hermione nodded. He turned her chin so she was forced to look at him. "We will _always_ be best friends," he said.

Her eyes lit up again. "Promise?"

"Yup. I'll even make the Unbreakable Vow."

"That really won't be necessary," Hermione laughed. Harry did too, feeling better now that she was okay.

She sat up, and Harry went over to the other side of the bed and got under the covers next to her. "You're right; it won't be. Ginny and I aren't getting together."

"Oh, Harry, don't say that because of me!"

"I'm not," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled into him and closed her eyes. "I just don't want to be with her. I don't feel it, you know? I don't love her. She's nice—she's great, actually—but I can't see her as more than a little sister. Does that make sense?"

Hermione sighed, thinking of Ron. "That makes perfect sense."

"I'm glad. I thought I was crazy for a moment there." Harry didn't know what made him do it, but he leaned down, then, and kissed the top of her head.

She smiled at him and took his free hand in hers. "You're not crazy at all. I—" Hermione was about to tell him that she felt the exact same way about Ron, but something was stopping her. The guilt about not being in love with him was overwhelming. She remembered the look on his face when she let him down, and she wanted to cry all over again.

Harry noticed this, and he reached over and wiped a tear from under her eye. They sat there for a long time, not needing to say anything.

The next day, Mrs. Weasley looked like she was feeling a bit better. She got up in the morning and made toast for breakfast, which didn't exactly meet her usual standards, but at least she felt good enough to cook.

Everyone kept to themselves over breakfast. Not a word was uttered, except for the occasional "Pass the marmalade." Harry couldn't stand the silence. He got up immediately when he was done eating. Ron stood up at the exact same time, and they walked into the kitchen together to wash their dishes.

"Here, I'll take that," Harry said, grabbing Ron's plate.

"Thanks." Ron leaned up against the counter while Harry put everything in the sink. "Listen, mate," Ron continued. "Are we okay? I mean, we haven't talked in like two days. Are you, ya know...?"

"There's nothing going on between Hermione and me, if that's what you wanted to know."

"Oh." Ron looked out the window, his ears going red.

"I'm serious. You guys are my best friends. I would never get in the way of your relationship."

Ron looked like he was about to say something else, but he just shook his head. "All right. Thanks." He walked away before Harry had the chance to respond. Harry finished cleaning up, and as he was leaving, Ginny walked in with her own dishes.

"Hey Harry," she said. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks." He walked towards the door. He heard footsteps behind him.

"Wait!" Ginny called. "Wanna go up to my room? Just to talk, of course..."

Harry remembered the first and last time he'd ever been in Ginny's room to "talk," and he didn't want a repeat of that episode. So he politely declined and left.

Luckily, he and Ginny didn't have much time to run into each other again. Fred's funeral was in two days, and the whole household was in a frenzy trying to prepare for three dozen more redheaded Weasleys to arrive. Harry tried to help in any way he could, but most of the time he found that he was getting in the way.

He spent lots of time in Hermione's room. She reread her old school books while he paced the room, trying to figure out what he was going to do after the funeral was over. He didn't want to stay at the Burrow forever, but he had nowhere to go. Maybe it was time to look into getting a house of his own. He didn't even know how to do that in the Wizard world.

Maybe he would go see the Dursleys... or maybe, now that Voldemort was dead, he would have a look in his parents' old house.

"Hermione?"

She looked up from her book. "Hmm?"

"Would you come to Godric's Hollow with me?"

"You mean now that Voldemort's snake isn't waiting there to kill us?" she laughed. "Sure. But why?"

"I want to see the inside of my house. Maybe I'll remember something..."

Hermione frowned. "You were a year old, Harry."

"I know. I just want to see, that's all."

"Of course I'll go back with you. I'm curious as well..." She trailed off and immersed herself once again in _Quintessence: A Quest_.

On the day of the funeral, Harry woke up late. It was around eleven in the morning. Ron was gone from his room, and Harry looked out the window to see tons of Weasleys in the yard. He dressed as quickly as possible and then bolted down the stairs. On the way, he ran into Ginny.

"Oops, sorry!" she said, skirting around him quickly. He heard her voice trembling.

"Ginny, are you okay?" Harry asked. She turned around, and he saw that she was crying.

She just shook her head and wiped some tears off her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Harry didn't know what to say. Luckily, Ginny started talking.

"I'm never going to see my brother again," she sobbed. "And I know he died for a good cause, and he helped fight against You-Know-Who, but... I'm sorry I'm crying like this. I'm sorry—"

Ginny cut off and started crying into her hands.

"It's okay," Harry said, patting her awkwardly on the back. "It really sucks, I get it, and it's okay to cry."

"But it's just not fair!" Ginny wailed. "He didn't do anything!"

Harry was trying his best to be patient. He so badly wanted to tell her that life wasn't fair, but he didn't think it would be good to say that when she was so upset. "I know, I know, I know," he kept saying.

"I mean, how could _you_ survive when you were a baby, but so many skilled witches and wizards died? Fred knew how to fight, and he didn't even get the chance!"

"To tell you the truth, Gin..." Harry was about to explain to her that he'd only survived all these years because he was a Horcrux, but then he realized that if he wanted to explain that to her, he'd have to explain a whole host of other things. How had they never talked about any of this before? "See, when Voldemort tried to kill—"

Ginny shuddered. "You-Know-Who."

"What's wrong with saying his name?" Harry asked. "He's dead now. The Taboo is gone."

"Taboo? What are you talking about?"

Harry's jaw dropped. Ginny wasn't just worried about the Taboo. She was still scared to say his name, even after he was dead.

"Never mind. I just don't understand why we can't call him—"

"Ugh, stop! What's wrong with you, that saying the name isn't scary?"

"I dunno! What's wrong with _you_ that it is?"

"I guess there's plenty wrong with me, for being like _every other witch and wizard in the country._"

"No, but I always thought you were better."

"Are you saying you're better than me because you're not afraid to say You-Know-Who's name?" Ginny asked. "Whatever, Harry." She turned on her heel and stomped up the stairs.

Harry shook his head and made his way to the kitchen. Ron and Hermione were sitting at the table, drinking tea and talking quietly. When they saw Harry coming in, their conversation stopped.

"What was that, mate?" Ron asked.

"It was... oh gosh..."

"Were you and Ginny fighting?" Hermione asked. "We thought we heard raised voices—"

"Yeah, but no big deal. It was just stupid."

Ron stood up. "I'm gonna see if she's okay. She was crying earlier..."

Once he was gone, Hermione approached Harry and took his hand. "Honestly, what happened?" she asked.

Harry hugged her. "It really was stupid. Let's talk later. The service is about to start." He let go, and they walked outside together.

It was time.


	4. Hanging by a Moment Here with You

**DISCLAIMER: Obviously I do not own Harry Potter lol, that belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers and whomever else. But I think you knew that.**

**AN: Ahhhh I'm so excited for you guys to read this. I've written a few chapters ahead in this story (both in the near and distant future) and this is by far my favorite. I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter Four

It was late at night, after Fred's funeral. All the Weasleys and Hermione had long since gone to bed. It was maybe ten or eleven. Harry had been here since the sunset, when everyone had gone inside. He'd stayed out, sitting on the edge of the hill, looking at all the land below him, and thinking about how none of it seemed real.

Hermione had been worried when he said he wanted to stay out here. As the Weasleys proceeded indoors, she sat down next to him and slipped her hand into his.

"Are you okay, Harry? Do you want to… talk, or anything?"

He said nothing, just stared at the sun, sinking lower in the sky. Yes, he wanted to talk, but he didn't know what he would say. All the emotion was rising up in him, and he didn't know where to start. More than anything, he just wanted Hermione to sit there with him. Even if neither of them said a thing, he felt like he needed her company.

But then Ron doubled back to see where she had gone. Harry didn't want to be around him for some reason. So he turned to face Hermione. She looked like she was concerned about him; even the expression in her eyes said so. But… no, he didn't want to intrude. She should go inside, with Ron.

"Nah, Hermione, I'm fine. Thanks, though… no, honestly, get inside the house, it's gonna get chilly out here." He kissed her swiftly on the cheek, and she let go of his fingers, one by one. He watched her go, wishing he didn't have to.

It had indeed gotten cold. Harry's jacket was wrapped tightly around him. He should probably go into the house, unless he wanted to get sick. He pushed himself up, a bit sore from sitting on the ground for several hours, and went back inside.

The lights in the kitchen and sitting room were dim. The room was mainly quiet, save for the normal nighttime noises. A clock was ticking, and there was deep, peaceful breathing coming from—

_Wait a second,_ Harry thought. _Why would there be someone sleeping down here when there are enough beds for everybody?_

He approached the sofa slowly. The breathing sounded an awful lot like…

And there was Hermione, sleeping on the sofa. Harry walked around to see if anyone else was there, but she was the only one. He sat down in Mr. Weasley's armchair, supposing he should wake her up and get her to her own bed. It was tempting: his desire to talk to her still had not gone away.

But she looked so peaceful just lying there. She had a small smile on her face, as though she were dreaming about something happy. And Bill's room, where she was sleeping, was on the fourth floor. It seemed rude to make her go all the way up there.

So he didn't wake her. But somehow, he couldn't move from where he was sitting. The chair was so much more comfortable than his hillside seat, and walking up five flights of stairs was not a very inviting prospect. It had been a long day for everyone, and Harry almost wanted to sleep here.

He was tired, yes, but he couldn't shut his eyes. In fact, he couldn't keep his eyes off Hermione. He'd never directly watched her as she slept before, and she… she almost looked like an angel or something. It was the way her eyelashes gently grazed the tops of her cheeks, or maybe it was her serene half-smile, the way her hair fell into her eyes, just a bit, or even the delicate way her body was curled, her blankets pulled up to her chin.

Why was he even thinking this? It was really creepy of him to be sitting here, staring at his best friend sleeping. And where had any of this come from? Since when had he ever thought that Hermione looked like an angel?

Well, she certainly acted like one. He needed her. No one else had stayed behind earlier to see if he was okay. She really cared about him, and she was able to see past her own pain to spare a thought for how Harry was doing.

The look she'd given him earlier was stuck inside his mind like a catchy song lyric that kept replaying itself. It was the concern in her warm, brown beautiful eyes—

No, Hermione didn't have beautiful eyes. That word had snuck in there because of how many times he'd thought of Ginny's brown, beautiful eyes.

_That's really not true,_ Harry insisted, arguing with himself._ You've thought about Hermione's beautiful eyes much more than you've thought about Ginny's—_

_Well, you'd think anyone's eyes were beautiful if they've saved your skin a thousand times, wouldn't you? _

_Yes, but Hermione really does have gorgeous eyes. They're all big and brown with those little flecks of gold… And anyway, it's not only your skin she's saved. Who was there for you all those years when no one else was? _

_One issue at a time, please. _

Because it was true; she was the only person who had always been there for him and never gone away. He could count on her more than anyone else. And so what if she had pretty eyes? She was still the same person, and it didn't mean anything. It wasn't like he was attracted to her. She wasn't ugly, but—

_Face it, Harry, you think she's gorgeous. _

_Yeah, maybe I do. But what does it matter? I've thought the same about plenty of women, and it didn't mean a thing. _

_That's not true. It's only been people you care about. _

_Well of course I care about Hermione! Are you mental? She means everything to me, but… no, not like that. It's not like that at all… _

Of course it wasn't. She was like his sister. Yes, his sister. He cared about her like a best friend should. He wanted her to be happy, and that was natural. Sure, he should want the best for her. And he should want to protect her, too—he shouldn't want her to get hurt. He should sit here and watch her sleep, staring at her lips in their mysterious half-smile, and wonder, just wonder, what it would be like if he were to…

_No, I shouldn't do that! Why am I even thinking that? Stop it! Stop it now! _

He wasn't going down that road. Just wondering, that was all. It was just a passing thought. He'd thought of even crazier things in his dreams. No, he wasn't asleep, but he was tired, and his mind wasn't quite right. He would never even dream of kissing Hermione if he were fully rested and emotionally sound.

And it wasn't like he'd wanted it. He'd just been a little bit curious for a minute.

Back in the Astronomy tower, they had been a second away from kissing. Harry was disappointed when their moment had been interrupted, and he felt a ghost of the longing lingering on his lips. He'd _desperately_ wanted it then, maybe even needed—

_Merlin's pants! The only thing I need is some sleep! _

He still couldn't move from his armchair. He couldn't will himself to do anything more but sit there and watch Hermione. A small strand of hair fell out of her ponytail and into her eyes. He wanted to go over there and move it, just to touch her skin.

Harry slid onto the floor and crawled to the sofa. He sat by her head, inches away from her face—so close he could feel her breathing. His hand reached out before he could stop it, and lightly, so that he was barely even touching her, he tucked the lock of hair behind her ear. He was just withdrawing his hand, when—

"Harry?" she mumbled, her eyes fluttering open. He fought the urge to curse under his breath. She was normally a moderate sleeper and didn't wake up so easily.

"Yeah, it's me," he said quietly. "You fell asleep on the couch. I'm gonna take you up to your room. Or did you want to stay here?"

"I'll go up to my room. Did you just come back inside?" She made to push herself off the sofa, but before she had moved an inch, Harry had picked her up in his arms. She wasn't light, but she wasn't as heavy as he'd thought, either.

"Yeah, I've been out there all night." He kept speaking quietly as he carried her up the stairs. "I came in and saw you sleeping on the sofa, but I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay. I only meant to lie down for a minute, anyway. I guess I must have fallen asleep…" She yawned and daintily covered her mouth. "You really don't have to carry me all the way to the fourth floor," she added.

"Honestly, it's fine. I'm going up to the fifth floor anyway, and you're still half asleep. I don't want you to trip and fall or anything." He kept walking, and she smiled sleepily at him.

"Well, thanks." She hugged him after he let her down.

Harry held her close and tried not to relish the feeling. "No problem." He started to walk up the last flight of stairs, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back. She planted a kiss on his face. It wasn't on his lips, but it was so close that she might have been aiming there and missed.

_She meant it like a sister, obviously,_ he thought as he climbed the remainder of the stairs. _Of course she'd never want to kiss me,_ he thought as he changed into his pajamas. _She just thought it was sweet that I'd helped her,_ he told himself as he climbed into his camp bed and extinguished his wand light.

Neither of them mentioned it over the next few days, although it was possible that Hermione didn't remember it; she'd been half asleep. Sometimes, Harry was able to put it out of his mind completely, but other times, he wondered what it would have been like if she'd moved over a bit, just a few inches.

Once or twice he caught himself mid-thought. It was insane. He shouldn't even be considering this. Yet, he couldn't help…

Hermione loved Ron. At least, he thought so. She'd kissed him like she loved him. She acted like she loved him. She got upset over him like she loved him. It didn't matter how Harry felt—if, in fact, he did feel anything at all. She had chosen Ron. And it really shouldn't mean anything to Harry, either way. He didn't love Hermione like Ron did.

Just because he didn't love her didn't mean he couldn't spend time with her, right? While the Weasleys went about grieving in their own ways, Harry and Hermione would hole up in the vacant rooms together. Sometimes they played cards or chess, and sometimes they tossed Harry's snitch back and forth, the wings fluttering weakly after spending most of the year in Harry's rucksack.

Sometimes they talked, and sometimes they didn't say a word. But it was perfect. When Harry needed to talk, Hermione was willing; when he wanted her to shut her mouth already, she didn't get offended when he voiced his request in such a manner.

One Wednesday afternoon, it was pouring rain. Ginny was with George, Mrs. Weasley was knitting, and Ron was having a nap. Harry sought out Hermione, and when he found her, he stole her away from her book and they sat close together in empty coat closet, which Harry had filled with blankets and pillows.

They started off talking about the Elder Wand, and whether or not Harry had done the right thing by leaving it in the Headmaster's office. Later, Harry would admit that he was being irrational about the whole conversation, but at the time, all he could do was try and argue himself out of his own decision.

"What if someone steals it?" he asked.

"No one's going to steal it," Hermione chuckled. "Wasn't Professor McGonagall going to put it back in Dumbledore's grave?"

"I guess you're right. But what if—?"

"Look," Hermione cut in. "I'm not going to sit here and debate this with you. It's done. Let it go."

"Hear me out, okay? Someone may want it so badly, that—"

"No! No one's going to break into Dumbledore's grave, I promise you."

"Voldemort did," Harry said grimly.

"Yes, but that's Voldemort. Stop worrying about it—"

"That's easy for you to say! You don't have to watch out for about anyone killing you because they want the wand's power."

Hermione burst out laughing. "Is that what you're afraid of?"

Harry sat in silence for a moment, listening to her giggles. Then he cleared his throat. "Well if you're just going to laugh at me, get out." He pointed at the door.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"You heard me. Get out!"

"Okay." She shrugged and started to stand up. When her hand was on the doorknob, Harry cried out again.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You told me to get out!"

"Yeah, but I didn't actually mean it. Sit down."

"You know, you're really being an arse, Harry," she said, with the smallest hint of a smile on her face. She sat back down and opened her book, reading quietly for the rest of the afternoon while Harry remained absorbed in his thoughts, occasionally blurting out a disconnected phrase that Hermione would ignore.

Not all of their days were like that. On several occasions, they had pillow fights in the bedrooms, and one time Hermione even cast Muffliato on the door and they blared Wizard Rock from the radio and danced all around the room. Harry felt a bit guilty for having fun while the Weasleys were grieving, but he couldn't just sit around and mourn Fred's death all day, and anyway, it wasn't like they noticed. While Harry had learned from Sirius's death that no amount of wishful thinking could bring back late loved ones, his housemates didn't seem to share the same sentiment. And as selfish and petty as it may have seemed, Harry was glad that he, rather than Ron, was the one spending alone time with Hermione...


	5. Lucky I'm In Love with My Best Friend

**DISCLAIMER: Obviously I do not own Harry Potter lol, that belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers and whomever else. But I think you knew that.**

Chapter Five

No good thing could ever last, though. After what seemed like too short a time, Hermione started acting funny. Like she suddenly had a million things to get done. She was always running around with stacks of freshly washed clothes in her hands, and there was always that one thing she'd left lying around, and she absolutely had to find it. When Harry went into her room, he found that most of the floor space was occupied by neatly categorized piles of books, waiting to be re-packed into her beaded bag. She bolted her meals down at top speed, woke up early, and went to bed late almost every night. More often than not, he'd wake up to find that she was out running an errand. Curiously, she spent large intervals of time at the kitchen table, poring over maps and other unidentified bits of paper. A few times she even had to leave the range of magic around the Weasleys' house to make calls on a cell phone.

Harry had no idea what she was doing, but he couldn't find a free minute to ask her, since she was always busy. One day, about two weeks after the funeral, he was walking up to Ron's room. He was supposed to be cleaning it, but Harry knew he wouldn't be.

Halfway up the stairs, someone in a hurry collided with Harry. She stopped a step above him, as everything she was holding flew out of her arms.

"Oh, sorry!" Hermione bent down to pick up the clothes she'd dropped, but Harry grabbed her arm to stop her.

"What's going on, Hermione? You've been acting like a crazy person for the past few days. Why are you in such a rush to do all this laundry and stuff?"

She took a breath to calm herself and pushed a few loose curls out of her eyes. Her hair was falling out of its ponytail, and she looked a mess. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"What? Why?" He found himself startled at this news. Why hadn't she told him she was leaving? "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to find my parents. Remember, they're somewhere in Australia with a memory charm placed over them? I figured it's time to go look for them."

"I'm coming with you," he blurted out.

Hermione laughed. "Harry, please, don't be ridiculous. I'm going on my own, and I'll be back soon. It won't be fun, I promise. Just a long, pointless journey—"

"Like the one you and Ron accompanied me on this past year—?" He interrupted her argument to make one of his own, but she cut in again.

"That's different; that was to kill Voldemort. This is—"

"Whatever. I'm coming with you, Hermione, and that's that. I only wish you'd told me sooner. I have to pack, and…" He trailed off when he caught sight of the way she was looking at him. It was a weird expression that he'd never seen on her face before, and it almost looked like…

"Harry, I love you," she said fervently, without a trace of joking in her voice.

"I love you, too," he replied, automatically, before he could stop himself. But the second the words left his lips, he knew they were true. He'd never said that to anyone in his life before now, but saying it to Hermione felt natural, as if this exchange had happened a thousand times before.

Before he had time to process what had just been said, they were kissing. He was kissing her; she was kissing him. It didn't matter who had started it—they'd both leaned in together—they were kissing each other.

Harry felt it the instant their lips met. His entire being exploded into a crazed frenzy of passion and desire. Any semblance of rational thought was instantly eradicated from his brain.

The world suddenly felt like someone had pushed it back into place. Now that Hermione was here, putting her arms around him, everything was right. How had he not seen this before? It was painfully obvious, now that it was right in front of him.

He loved her. He really, truly loved her. Her embrace was warm, comforting, and familiar; yet it was also new and exciting. It was hard for him to take in everything at once, but he had all the time he needed, because they were the only two people in the world. Harry wanted to stay forever in this moment, just him and his best friend…

I'm in love with my best friend, he thought giddily. Why had he been so scared to admit it? He'd spent all that time over the past few days worrying about it, but there was nothing to be worried about. This was too wonderful to be wrong in any way.

Vaguely, Harry heard a noise behind him. Footsteps, maybe? It didn't matter what it was. Who cared about footsteps? As long as he got to stay here with—

Hermione pulled away quite suddenly, and Harry felt his face slipping into a pout as she picked her clothes up off the floor. He turned around just in time to see a head of long, red hair appear, and all the elation he had left over from the kiss just fizzled out of him, like air from a popped balloon.

"Hey Ginny," Hermione said brightly, standing up once again. "I'll see you later, Harry. Come find me after dinner, okay?" She touched her fingers lightly to his hair as she passed them on the way down.

Ginny appeared next to him. The smile on her face told him that she hadn't seen anything, and so did her tone. "Hi, Harry! Where are you headed off to?"

"I'm, er, going upstairs to help Ron clean his room. You wanna come?" he asked, knowing that Ginny would refuse. She hated going inside Ron's room; she said it made her fear for her life.

"No thanks," she said with a small laugh, as Harry had known she would. He bid her goodbye and climbed the remaining stairs, where he found Ron lying on his bed, flipping through a magazine.

"How's that cleaning going?" Harry asked, startling his friend with his sudden appearance in the doorway. Ron jumped, and Harry, chuckling, plopped down onto his camp bed. He lied on his back and thought about what had just happened.

"Ron?" he asked, after a few minutes' silence. "Have you ever kissed somebody you think you might be… in love with?"

He held his breath, not knowing what Ron would make of that question.

"Why?" he snickered, seeming more than a little bit amused. "Did you finally snog someone other than my sister?"

Stung by the fact that Ron hadn't taken his issue seriously, Harry was sorely tempted to say yes and tell him all about what had happened with Hermione. But he knew that Ron never took anything seriously, so he crossed his fingers and said "No." It hadn't really been snogging, anyway, more of…

Harry was still trying to figure out what it had been when Ron answered. He spoke kind of quietly, but Harry knew it meant he was being serious.

"One time," he said. "One time, I've kissed someone I'm in love with."

"And?" Harry prodded. He was a little bit disturbed by his own feelings, and maybe Ron wasn't the best person to talk about it with, but what choice did he have?

"And it was the best feeling in the world. It almost felt like she could actually love me, too. Impossible, I know…" He chortled sarcastically and threw the magazine at his desk, where it hit with a loud crash and slid to the ground.

Harry knew he was talking about Hermione—there was no way it could be anybody else. "I mean, what happened… after you kissed her. Did you—did you, like, talk, or something?" He guessed he'd said the wrong thing; Ron looked like he was going to be sick.

"Please. Of course we didn't talk. I meant to… I tried to. Hermione doesn't love me, Harry, get real. All she had to do was tell me that, and any conversation was over."

He felt sorry for Ron; he really did. However, he was more surprised to hear that Hermione didn't love him. When had this happened? Why hadn't she told Harry earlier?

"Do you think you're still in love with her, then?" Harry asked, now just for the good of his own curiosity.

"Of course I'm still in love with her, Harry. You don't just stop being in love with somebody. It only hurts more and more, especially since I see her every day."

"Well you don't have to worry about that, now, do you? She's leaving tomorrow, isn't she? You won't have to see her every—"

Ron sat up straight on the bed, so fast that Harry barely saw him move. "What do you mean, she's leaving tomorrow? When did you find this out?"

"I just ran into her on the stairs, rushing around and packing. I asked her what the hurry was, and she said she was going away."

"Why didn't she tell us? And where the hell would she be going?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Her parents are still somewhere in Australia, Ron, and she wants to find them and lift the memory charm." He left out the part about him going with her. Surely, if Ron knew that Harry was going along, he'd want to come, too. Harry wanted this time to be special, with just himself and Hermione. Maybe a time for them to figure out what was going on.

"Well, that sucks. She should have said something… I'll miss her while she's gone, but maybe it's for the best…"

Ron didn't automatically assume that he was coming along, and that was good. But just in case, Harry knew he should think of a cover-up story, too.

"I'm leaving tomorrow, too, you know," he added casually.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked skeptically, as though he didn't believe that Harry could possibly have any place important to go.

"I might go visit my aunt and uncle," he invented wildly.

"But Harry, you hate them," Ron reminded him, unnecessarily.

"Well, I don't know. I might do that. Really, Ron, I just kind of need some time to myself. Not that I don't like being over here, mate, I really love it, but after everything that's happened… I need a break. Space to think. You know?"

It wasn't a lie, thought Harry. He needed space, and Hermione would give it to him when he wanted it, but she'd be there when he wanted to talk. Besides, he didn't think he could be away from her for too long… He was afraid to be entirely on his own...

Hermione was completely normal at dinner, acting as if their encounter on the stairs had never happened. Harry, however, couldn't keep still, and he kept looking over at her. Three times, he caught her eye, and each time she'd flash him a playful smile and look away immediately. Each time this happened, his heartbeat sped up.

There was no way that all of this had come about in under half an hour. He must have felt this way for months, maybe years.

After dinner, he saw Hermione slip out the back door, and he followed her out to a clump of bushes in the yard. They climbed inside and sat facing each other.

"You know it's true, what I said earlier," Harry hastened to inform her. "I really am in love with you. I really meant it when I said it."

"I know, Harry." She smiled and took his hand. "I meant it, too."

He squeezed her hand, and she returned the pressure. "I didn't know it, at first," he said, speaking unconsciously. "I mean, I didn't know that I loved you; I just said it back. But I know now, and I just wanted to tell you that I'm sure."

"So… you're sure that you want to come with me tomorrow?"

"Hermione, please. If the 'I love you' wasn't enough of an answer to that question… I don't want to be without you."

Even in the darkness, he saw her blush. The sweet red color flooded her face, and she giggled a bit.

"I don't want to be without you, either," she whispered, as if admitting something she wasn't supposed to say. "I was going to ask you to come with me, but I'd decided against it… but you wanted to come anyway." She looked up at him through her eye-lashes, and he noted, not for the first time, how lovely her brown eyes were.

"Of course I do," Harry responded. "I had no idea what you were planning, though. And even if I did, I'd have thought you were going to ask Ron to go with you. Never me. But he told me today that you... you said you don't love him."

Hermione sighed. "Because I don't. I felt awful telling him so, but I didn't want to lie to him. I love _you_, Harry—not him. It's been that way since... I don't even know how long. Except I didn't realize it until I thought you were dead. I didn't realize just how much I need you. I honestly considered ending my life right then, because I didn't know if I could live without you," she confessed. "I love you so much..."

He was considering kissing her again—the thought had just crossed his mind, and he was about to act on the impulse—when he heard a voice coming from the direction of the house. His face now inches from Hermione's, he opened his eyes, annoyed.

"Harry, you out here?" Ron called into the darkness. Harry didn't say anything, but he and Hermione held their breath, even though Ron was far away.

A door slammed shut, and Hermione started fighting her way out of the bushes. Her shorts had bunched up a bit from sitting in the dirt, and he could see the pale skin of her bare legs, looking white in the moonlight.

He followed her back to the house, and Hermione jumped up to hoist herself through the bathroom window on the first landing. He heard her whisper "Alohomora," and he chuckled to himself as he walked through the back door.

"Where the hell were you?" Ron asked, tossing Harry's empty rucksack onto his camp bed.

"Bathroom," Harry lied, throwing all his clothes into the bag at random.

"Whatever, mate." Ron shrugged. Harry zipped his bag and lied down. "I'll get the lights." With a click of the Deluminator, the room went black, and Harry slept easily.

The next morning, Harry and Hermione were off after breakfast. They were just getting ready to go, saying goodbye and all that.

"How does everything you need fit in that tiny little bag, Hermione?" Ginny wondered, pointing at the beaded bag hanging off Hermione's shoulder. Harry and Ron looked at each other, smirking.

"I have my ways," Hermione winked.

After the last round of hugs was complete, Harry and Hermione left together. Everyone else went back to what they were doing, but Ron sat at the window, watching them leave. They walked up the hill, side by side. Hermione was laughing wildly at something Harry had said, and Harry joined in laughing, too. Then Harry extended his pinky finger so that it linked with Hermione's, and—

They were over the hill.


	6. I Can't Smile Without You

**AN: I'm going to stop posting the disclaimer because I think you all get it by now. I don't own Harry Potter. Anyway, my real Author's Note here is that I got a request for longer chapters in one of my reviews, but I like the chapters the length they are, so I'm probably going to start updating more frequently. OKAY.**

Chapter Six

"Off to Australia we go," Harry joked. "Where to first, Hermione? It's not like it's a humongous continent or anything…"

"Oh, hush," she laughed, smacking his arm. "We're going to rent a vacation home down there, because I'm not staying in a tent again. Don't worry, I took care of it."

"And what's the plan from there?" He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"I'm really not sure," she admitted.

Harry gasped sarcastically. "Hermione Granger… doesn't have a plan?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't resist smirking. "Come on, let's get out of here."

He took her hand and let her take the lead. They spun into the darkness and reappeared on the path to a small cottage. The sun was just beginning to set.

"Hermione, it's freezing," Harry complained as a cold breeze blew past.

"Oh, didn't I mention, it's winter here? Their seasons are opposite ours, and—we'll change inside, come on." She dragged him up the path and started rummaging in her bag for the key.

Harry stood there shivering as Hermione shifted things around, her arm all the way inside the bag.

"Hurry up!" Harry whined.

"Oh for Heaven's sake! Accio Key!"

She unlocked the door and they went inside. As Hermione read a note that had been left on the front table by the house owners, Harry looked around. The living area was high-ceilinged, and on the far side of the room was a staircase. He climbed upstairs and saw the second floor had a railing, allowing him to see the living room below.

"HI HERMIONE!" he shouted.

She looked up at Harry and grinned. "I thought you'd like that."

He walked down the hallway. "There are two bedrooms..."

"I get the big one if you don't want to share," she called absently. He heard her moving around in the kitchen.

"I don't think that's going to be a problem." Harry opened the door to the smaller bedroom. Tons of boxes were stacked all around the floor, and in the back corner of the room sat a dusty elliptical trainer, looking thoroughly neglected.

Harry shut the door and went to join Hermione in the kitchen. He sat down at the table and watched her look through the refrigerator. "What are you doing?"

"Checking to see if the lease included food." She stood up and shut the fridge door. "It doesn't."

"How are we going to eat?" Harry asked, slightly worried. He didn't say it aloud, but his stomach gave an unpleasant lurch upon remembering the months spent living in the wild and eating Hermione's cooking.

"We're going to have to get jobs, obviously. The owners of the house are these two Muggle sisters, so we're going to have to pay the rent in Muggle money as well."

"Why the hell—?"

"Because," Hermione interrupted, "my entire life's savings are in pounds, and I have no idea how Wizard real estate works, and I didn't want to put us in the middle of a Wizard community, which would make it impossible for us to walk out the front door without being swarmed, _and_ I want to be able to use my electronics!"

"What?" Harry burst out laughing at that last, unexpected reason. "I didn't even know you owned any electronics."

She nodded. "My parents gave me a cell phone and a laptop computer about a year ago, because the neighbors were starting to complain about all the owls on our street. I told them it unfortunately wouldn't help much, because magic messes with the technology somehow."

"I see. Well, you'll have to show me how to use that stuff. And maybe you can even make it work with magic." He snickered sarcastically.

"You know, that's not a bad idea."

"Hermione, I was only kidding. That's impossible."

She looked affronted at the insinuation that she was incapable of doing something. "You'll be eating your words, Harry Potter, when I invent the first magic-compatible telephone."

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled all the same.

They spent the rest of the evening sitting in the living room and talking. They talked about how weird was that they'd lost their entire day to the time change, and they wondered where they were going to work in a Muggle community. When they got hungry, they went out for a late supper and decided to deal with the whole food situation the next day.

Back at the house, they finally opened up the door to the bigger bedroom. It looked like a master bedroom with its own bathroom and walk-in closet, but there were two single beds instead of a double.

"How long do you reckon this will take?" Harry asked, grabbing the beaded bag off the desk and pulling his pajamas out of his rucksack. "Finding your parents?"

"I've no idea," she admitted, also changing into her nightclothes. "Why, are you starting to regret coming with me?"

"No, just the contrary." He threw his bag to the ground and climbed into the nearest bed. "I'm glad to be away from everybody. I like being here alone with you."

Hermione chuckled and squeezed herself into the bed with him. "I'll sleep here, then, and we'll see if you don't get sick of me."

He bent down and kissed her nose with a laugh. "Not possible. And besides, if you get annoying, I'll just do this." Harry rolled over, and Hermione toppled out of the single bed with a great clattering crash.

"Oh, I am going to get you for that!" She jumped back up onto the bed and pretended to attack him. He blocked his face with the pillow, but she snatched it right out of his hands and started beating him with it. They wrestled for a while but eventually had to stop because they were laughing so hard. Tears leaked out of the corners of Hermione's eyes, and her curly hair was rumpled and falling in her face.

"All right, it's bedtime," Hermione finally said, getting off Harry's bed and climbing into her own. She waved her wand at the light switch and bade him goodnight.

A few quiet minutes passed, and Harry didn't hear the familiar sounds of Hermione sleeping. So he grabbed his own wand to turn the lights back on.

She pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked over at him. "You can't sleep, either, can you?" she asked.

"No, of course I can't, it's not even noon back at home."

"Time zones are annoying," she groaned, flopping back down on the bed. "Why can't the whole world exist in the same harmonious hour?"

"We should have come at night," Harry suggested. "We'd be ready to sleep."

"But then it would be morning here, and we'd be tired all day! There is absolutely no good way to do this. I mean, I suppose we could have taken an airplane," she joked.

"That would have been… actually, I wouldn't know, seeing as I've never actually been on an airplane before."

She gaped at him for a moment. "How can you live seventeen years of your life being raised by Muggles and never ride in an airplane? Didn't the Dursleys travel at all?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, "but even if they had, they hardly would've taken me along with them. Have you been on an airplane before?"

"Oh yes, my parents loved traveling. I went all sorts of places, over the summers before I got my Hogwarts letter. Trust me, planes are much more troublesome than Apparating. A flight from England to Australia is just awful."

They talked about airplanes for a surprisingly long time. Harry was just starting to imagine what it would have been like to sit in a tiny seat, wedged between screaming children and forced to eat disgusting airline food, but then he let one yawn escape and it was all over.

"You're tired; get to sleep," Hermione demanded, hopping out of his bed straightaway (she'd come back over to sit next to him).

"I guess I am a little tired…" he conceded, pulling the blankets back over him once Hermione was gone.

"Yeah, me too, finally… Well, goodnight, Harry." She rolled over and faced the other way, and he watched her in the dark.

"Goodnight. I love you." There was silence in return, and his heart caught in his throat. Perhaps he shouldn't have said…

"I love you, too," said Hermione's muffled voice.

They really were three very nice words, Harry mused, as he drifted off to sleep.

Gentle hands were shaking his shoulders, and he looked up, confused. Hermione was standing above him, waiting for him to open his eyes.

"Good morning, sleepyhead, let's get up. We need to get moving."

Harry sat up straight and bumped heads with Hermione. She took a step back, laughing. "Ouch, be careful!"

"Ugh, sorry. What time is it?" He pushed himself out of bed and started getting dressed, watching Hermione straighten up the room.

"It's almost eight. For someone who was so reluctant to sleep last night, you sure slept for a while."

"I guess I was more tired than I thought…"

When they went down to the kitchen, there was still no food. Harry didn't know what he'd been expecting—maybe that the Food Fairies would come in the middle of the night and fill their empty refrigerator?

Hermione was apparently thinking along the same lines. "We have to go grocery shopping today."

"With what money?" Harry quipped.

"I have a bit left from the savings I withdrew last year, but that's not going to sustain us for very long. We need to find jobs."

"The real world is difficult."

"Oh, Harry. We lived in a tent for the past ten months. This is cake compared to that." Hermione shook her head.

"True. Let's go back to that place we had supper last night. We can eat and then figure it out from there."

There wasn't much to figure out, when it came down to it. Hermione simply requested to see the manager after their meal, and with a few discreet waves of her wand, they walked out of the diner working night shifts.

"Hermione, I can't believe you Confunded the manager!" Harry laughed as they walked down the street.

"Oh, hush," she said, though she was also laughing. "Did you want a job or not?"

"Yeah, we probably couldn't have gotten jobs as waiters on our own."

"Shut up!"

"No, I'm being serious! We don't know anything about carrying trays or putting on friendly smiles or writing people's orders down quickly. All we can do is magic."

Hermione shushed him again through her laughter. "Shhh, someone might hear you."

"Even if they do, we can just Confund them," Harry joked.

They were both hysterical by the time they stopped in a narrow alley.

"So what are we gonna do now?" he asked.

She sighed, as if the prospect were terribly unwelcoming, and stuck her arm into her beaded bag, pulling out a map. "We're going to every single city in this country and checking the registries."

"Brilliant, this'll take years."

"Not if we get going!" She grabbed his hand and consulted her map before heading off to the first city they were going to check.

And off they went every day, checking city registries for Wendell and Monica Wilkins, to no avail. They stayed out for a good six to eight hours every day, and then they went off to work, getting back to the house tired and worn out.

After a while, Harry was starting to become a bit discouraged, but Hermione was more hopeful than ever. Each night, she'd cross off the cities they'd checked that day and count up how many they had left to go. He found it impossible to be unhappy when she was in such a wonderful mood, so no matter how tired he was when they fell into bed at night, he was oddly satisfied.

Back at the Burrow, the two youngest Weasley children were anything but satisfied. A few days after Harry and Hermione had left, Ginny and Ron could be found sitting in the living room and staring blankly into the fire.

"Ron?" she asked, rather unexpectedly. "Do you think Harry's... mad at me?"

Her brother wasn't really paying attention; his mind was a bit preoccupied with the image of his two best friends walking over the hill and laughing together. He missed them already. Now his only company was a brooding Ginny.

"I dunno, Gin," he answered after a long pause. "Why would he be?"

"We got into a fight before he left. Well, kind of. It was before Fred's... you know... memorial. Anyway, he was mad then, and after that we didn't talk much..."

"He was busy helping Hermione, I expect." As hard as he tried, Ron was unable to keep the bitter tone out of his voice. "She was packing and all." _Yeah, packing up for a bunch of betrayal. Both of them just decided to leave without letting me know first, isn't that just great. Neither of them asked me if I wanted to come._

"Yes, I suppose..." said Ginny, sounding like she was lost in her own train of thought as well.

"Look, Ginny, it doesn't really matter. He and Hermione are gone now. I have no idea where they are—somewhere in Australia, I guess. Why do you even care?"

Ginny's ears turned a deep shade of scarlet. "No reason," she muttered.

They didn't say anything for a while, until she blurted out—

"I think I love him."

Ron barely reacted at all. "Join the club."

"You're in love with Harry, too?" she said with a smirk.

"No! Shut up, Ginny, I'm in lo—what I mean to say is... Hermione's the one I—well, er, you know what I mean." It hurt him to say it out loud. He missed her so much and regretted not stopping her before she left. Harry had said he wasn't going with her, but Ron didn't believe it. They just _happened_ to be leaving together on the same day? Come on, did they think he was stupid?

"She used to cry over you, did you know?" Ginny brought him out of his reverie. "She would come into my dorm at least four times a week and tell me what an arse you were for dating Lavender when she thought you liked her."

Ron snorted. "Right. Like she would even care."

"She did, though. She cared a lot. She cared about you more than Harry ever cared about me, that's for sure."

Not knowing what to say to that, Ron glanced out the window. Just the other day, he's watched from that window as his two best friends left him. He didn't know whether to feel bitter or angry or betrayed or what, because in this moment he just felt lonely.


	7. Little Moments

**AN: This is definitely not the best chapter I've ever written, so sorry if the little notification or whatever got you all excited. I've just been writing this in bits and pieces whenever I can find the time (which isn't often, between three AP classes, debate, chorus, work, volunteering, babysitting, applying to colleges, ETC ETC ETC), so it's probably lacking a bit in continuity and maybe also in good writing. It gets especially bad by the end, because quite frankly I've been working on this part for so long that I'm getting sick of it, and I just want to finish the damn thing already and post it for you guys, lol. It's just that in my head, this was written much more smoothly, and I'm a bit disappointed that it doesn't meet my usual standards. But no worries, I'm FINALLY settling into my senior year and I hope to have two more (good!) chapters up before NaNoWriMo starts and I'll have to take another hiatus. Sorry!**

Chapter Seven

* * *

><p><em>Tuesday, 9 June 1998, 12:06 pm<em>

Despite the fact that it was a bit cold outside, Harry and Hermione were taking a stroll around the park. They each held a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and their partner's hand in the other. It was nice to be relaxed: The day had been a long one so far, full of complicated map reading, overly tight security, and plenty of running.

Speaking of running, Harry was starting to run a bit low on his hot chocolate. He reached for his wand so he could refill his cup, but his pocket was empty. All of his pockets were.

"Hermione," he said slowly, trying to keep calm. "I think I've lost my wand."

"That's ridiculous, you just had it a moment ago... didn't you?" She actually couldn't remember. "Here, let me summon it. It's probably in my bag or something..." But Hermione's wand was not in her pockets, either.

Harry noticed this, and a panicked expression dawned on his face. "Oh no. We've lost our wands, and we're not going to be able to get back to the house, and we're going to be stuck here forever—"

"Harry, don't panic; that's my job," Hermione joked, although she was worried as well. "Let's just retrace our steps. We probably dropped them while we were running away from those police officers." She released his hand and gave him her hot chocolate. While she looked at her map, he took a big sip of her drink.

Once she'd figured out which way they were going, they set off. Harry walked backwards for a bit, trying to lighten the mood by literally "retracing" his steps, but they were both freaking out so much that it didn't really work.

They walked along slowly, looking on the ground for their wands. It was especially scary to wonder if they'd dropped them on the roads. Hermione didn't see any bits of broken wood, though, so that was probably a good sign.

After they'd walked for literally miles and found nothing, they sat down on the curb in a parking lot. Hermione was practically having an existential crisis. For so many years, she'd used her wand for almost everything she did, and now it was gone.

"How are we even going to get back to the house?" Harry asked. "We Apparated here this morning..."

"I've no idea yet. Maybe we'll take a bus or something, though I think we're pretty far away. Oh, Harry, what are we going to do?"

He was about to respond when he heard children laughing behind him. He watched them play, annoyed and a bit envious that they didn't have to worry about anything, especially not something as tragic as their wands going missing. The two boys were fake-fighting, hitting each other with long bits of wood...

"Hermione," Harry whispered in her ear. "Are those our wands?"

She turned around so fast that her hair hit him in the face. Then, before Harry could stop her, she got up and marched over to the children. He was reminded of her days as a Prefect—at the moment, she had the same scary look on her face.

"Excuse me," she said. "Where did you get those?"

A little redheaded boy smiled mischievously up at her. "I found them. Over there, by the road. But you can't have them. Finders keepers, you know." His blond, fox-faced companion nodded vigorously.

Hermione looked incredulously back at Harry. He just shrugged.

"Listen, boys. I'll give you twenty dollars to—"

"No way, lady! They're ours now!"

She tried to lunge forward and grab them, but the boy yanked them out of her reach. He then stuffed them down his shirt and stood there smirking at Hermione.

This gave her an idea. "Stupefy," she whispered. The boy fell forward onto the floor, the wands spilling out of his shirt. The other boy looked at Hermione, alarmed, and ran off in the other direction. Hermione grabbed the wands. She tossed Harry's to him and then dragged him forward by the hand. "Come on, let's get out of here!"

* * *

><p><em>Thursday, 16 July 1998, 9:12 pm<em>

There was a surprising amount of patrons in the diner, seeing as it was so late on a Thursday night. Hermione checked her watch. _Less than an hour left, then we can go home,_ she told herself. Then she inadvertently smiled. It hadn't even been two months, and she was already starting to think of this place as home. Of course, home is where your heart is, and her heart was with that goofy man over by the window, who was presently entertaining a table full of children with his realistic magic tricks.

She considered going over there and reminding him to be careful, but she had customers to serve. An elderly lady sat at a table by herself, sipping her coffee and surveying the scene around her. Hermione put on a cheery smile and went over to her.

"Hello, ma'am. Are you ready to order yet?"

As the woman looked over the menu one more time, Hermione watched another waitress out of the corner of her eye. She was carrying several trays at once. A mean-looking kid stuck his foot out to trip her as she passed. Hermione waved her wand in her pocket, and mysteriously, the waitress seemed to catch her balance.

Harry walked by at that moment. "I thought we said no magic," he breathed in Hermione's ear as he passed.

"You're one to talk!" she called after him. He shrugged and went to wait on a table of girls who, most nights, just _happened_ to be there during his shift.

"Good evening, ladies," he said, winking at Hermione. She rolled her eyes, even though she thought he was being funny. They both liked to watch the increasingly ridiculous ways the girls threw themselves at him.

A girl with long blonde hair batted her eyelashes and played with the neckline of her low-cut sweater. "Harry, my lemonade doesn't have enough ice. Would you mind getting some more for me?"

"No problem, sweetheart." Harry always pretended like he forgot their names—even though he knew perfectly well that the blonde was Selena, the one with the brown bob and too much red lipstick was Abigail, and the sandy-haired one with freakishly huge blue eyes was Megan. But they liked it when he called them "sweetheart" in his British accent. He saw Hermione laughing from across the room.

When he came back with Selena's drink, Megan was writing on a piece of paper. She slipped it into his hand with a wink. He opened it to find her name and a phone number. He didn't know why they thought that would work; there were a dozen of the same things in the bin outside.

At the end of their shift, Harry and Hermione walked home. His arm was around her shoulders, pressing them so close together that it was hard to walk quickly.

"Megan gave me her number again," Harry said with a laugh.

"Which one is Megan?"

"The one with the owl eyes."

Hermione giggled, because it was true. "I think she's the prettiest one."

"Is she? I don't care. I still wouldn't go out with her. She's not you." This made Hermione blush furiously. Harry continued, not noticing anything. "I mean, you're brilliant. All three of them are stupid."

"Harry!" Hermione shook her head. "How can you say that? You've never even had a real conversation with any of them."

"They're stupid because they think hitting on me over and over again will work, even though they see us walking home together every night."

"People only see what they want to see," Hermione offered.

"Well," Harry whispered, pulling her closer, "I only want to see you." They stopped walking and kissed right there on the sidewalk.

* * *

><p><em>Monday, 10 August 1998, 5:38 pm<em>

Harry shut the front door behind him. He took off his wet coat and hung it up. It had suddenly started pouring rain outside. "Hermione?" he called through the house as he haphazardly performed a drying charm on himself.

"In the kitchen!" she replied. He walked in and sat down at the table, and she kissed him quickly. "You're still a bit wet," she said, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes.

"I guess my drying charm didn't work as well as I wanted. Anyway, it just started raining outside. I didn't get to finish in the vegetable garden."

"Did you at least grab a tomato before you came in?" she asked from the stove.

"Sure I did. Accio." The tomato came zooming into the room, and Harry caught it. "What are you making?"

"Oh, nothing fancy. Just spaghetti. I'm not in the mood for anything elaborate tonight."

"Me neither. In fact, can we just skip work?"

Hermione turned around to look at him sternly. "Harry! Of course we can't!"

"All right, all right," he laughed, standing up and stretching. "I was only joking." His eyes wandered around the corner, and he saw something in the living room he didn't want to see. "Shit, Mione. The roof's leaking."

"Language!"

"Sorry! Do you know a spell to fix it?"

Hermione threw down the towel she was holding. "Let me look at it." She went into the living room and conjured up a bucket to contain the water. Harry watched her, wondering what she was going to do. Then he smelled something burning.

"What is that...?"

They both whipped around. Black smoke was billowing through the doorway. They looked at each other for a brief moment and sprinted into the kitchen.

Harry, always the brave—and sometimes stupid—one, sprung forward immediately. "Aguamenti!" he said. The water only made the fire bigger. He screamed and jumped back. Hermione stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the burning stove.

"You never put water on a kitchen fire!" she scolded, having to shout over the roar of the flames.

"You put it out, then!" was Harry's indignant reply.

"All right." Hermione stepped forward, waved her wand in a complicated little motion, and the fire vanished.

They both stood there, breathing heavily, contemplating the fact that the house could have burned down.

"Thank you for reading way too many spell books," Harry said quietly.

* * *

><p><em>Saturday, 22 August 1998, 11:25 am<em>

With one final push, the twin beds in Harry and Hermione's room came together to make one. Hermione straightened up and wiped her brow. "Now it's time," she said.

"Do we really have to? Harry whined, plopping down on his side of the bed. "Can't we just—"

"No! Come on, Harry, we've been putting this off for a month now. Let's just get it over with."

He stood up. "Fine."

"There we go," Hermione cooed sarcastically. Harry rolled his eyes as she dragged him into the second bedroom. He looked upon their task with much reluctance. They had spent the entire morning generally tidying the house and even rearranging the furniture—at Harry's request, as a way of further temporizing what he knew must be done. Now, instead of starting, he sat down on a box.

"Looks pretty clean to me," he said.

Hermione ruffled his hair playfully. "Get up. We have to figure out what we're going to do with these boxes to make this room... habitable. I want room for my bookshelves, of course, and maybe we can set up some tables or desks—"

"For what?" Harry interrupted.

"So I can catch up on my school work. Remember, I told you I wanted to go back and finish Hogwarts after we find my parents, and I need to make sure I—"

"HERMIONE!"

"What?"

"You are going to be fine. I promise you know more than any seventh year at Hogwarts. You probably know more than some of the professors."

She smiled down at him and extended her hand to help him off the box. "You're right. But I'd still like to look at the material now and again so I don't forget it. Besides, it's not all school work. I've also begun a project.

"Oh? What's that?"

"It's a secret." She smirked.

"Hermione. You know I'm gonna find out sooner or later."

She turned around and started opening a box. "I prefer later," she sang.

After Harry and Hermione had spent about an hour unpacking boxes of random crap, Harry was getting annoyed. "Hermione, do you really think it's okay for us to be going through the owners' stuff?" he asked.

"Hmm, maybe you're right," she said.

"You couldn't have realized that an hour ago?" Harry playfully threw a blouse from one of the boxes at her.

She laughed and threw it back. "Still, though, I want to be able to use the room. What can we do with all the stuff?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, put it all in your bag?"

"No, I... wait! We still have that tent, right? Let's set it up at the end of the hallway and put all the boxes in there."

So they spent the rest of the day moving boxes into the tent.

After that, they could hardly do anything but lie in bed. Hermione had insisted that it wasn't necessary to use magic, so Harry's arms and back ached.

"I should go set up my office area," Hermione said vaguely, not looking like she was going to get up and do something any time soon.

Harry shook his head. "We have all day tomorrow. Let's just relax." They lounged in silence for a while, until Harry remembered—"Oh yeah, what's that secret project you were talking about earlier?"

"I'm not gonna tell you," she taunted.

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

He suddenly reached over and started tickling her, and through her giggles, she screamed, "You won't make me talk!" over and over, until they both collapsed in a heap of laughter.

* * *

><p><em>Friday, 18 September 1998, 3:47 pm<em>

"Hello?" Harry called as he walked into the house. "Hermione, you here?" He hung up his coat on the coat rack. It was getting to be warmer outside now; pretty soon he wouldn't even need his jacket. He stopped to listen for a moment and heard a noise coming from the sofa. It took him a moment to place the sound, but when he did, he all but sprinted over there.

Hermione was crying.

Harry jumped over the back of the couch and plopped down next to her, immediately putting his arm around her and pulling her close. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing, I—" she stopped and buried her face in his shoulder. "I was just worrying, that's all. It's just stupid."

"Mione, please. It can't be that stupid if you're crying about it. Just tell me."

She looked conflicted for a moment, but then she took a deep breath and started to speak. "I was just thinking about... what if my parents don't remember me... even after I've restored their memories? What if I never get to talk to them again—?" And with that she broke off crying. Harry just held her, quietly stroking her hair.

"Gosh, this is really stupid," she said after a while. "I must sound awful being upset about this. I mean, you've never even talked to your parents..."

Harry met her eyes. "No! You are not awful at all. Stop it. My life has nothing to do with this, and I completely understand why you're worried. But you shouldn't be. You probably cast a perfect memory modifying charm, and you're going to cast a perfect memory restoring charm. It'll be fine. Okay?"

She laughed quietly. "Yeah, I guess. Thanks." She reached forward to push some hair out of his eyes. "You know, you could really use a haircut."

He ran his hands across the back of his head. "Yeah, I suppose I could. I'll have to take care of that over the weekend."

"Or," she said, standing up, "we could do it now. I think I have some scissors in the kitchen..."

"Umm, what are you doing?" He got up to follow her.

"Here they are!" She emerged from the kitchen, wielding a pair of scissors.

"I don't think I can let you do this," he cried. "You said you'd never cut my hair again!"

"Yeah, but—"

"Hermione, you promised," Harry said, backing slowly away from her.

"Oh, come on. It's getting really bad." She snipped her scissors threateningly, following him. He walked backwards into the sofa and flipped over the back. Then he got right up again and kept trying to escape.

"No! You said it yourself. You told me never to let you give me a haircut again. And then you told me to always listen to you, so you should... listen... to... yourself!" He was now leaning up against the wall, and she was closing in on him.

"It won't look as bad as it did last time—"

"Oh yeah? Why should I believe that? Have you been practicing your hair cutting?"

"Well, no, but—hey, where are you going?"

Harry had ducked under her arm and was running up the stairs. She chased after him, and he yelled down the stairs, "NO RUNNING WITH SCISSORS!"

She stopped below the balcony and looked up. "WOULD YOU RATHER I USE A SEVERING CHARM?" she called.

"I'D RATHER YOU NOT CUT MY HAIR AT ALL, ACTUALLY."

Hermione, disregarding all safety advice, ran upstairs after him. The chase ended with a lost pair of scissors, a broken vase, and a lopsided haircut for Harry.

* * *

><p><em>Monday, 5 October 1998, 2:51 pm<em>

Harry stood outside the door to the spare bedroom, debating going inside. There was a sign, right as his eye level, saying "Classified Operation, DO NOT ENTER." So, naturally, he was extremely curious about what he would find, were he to open the door. Hermione was probably working on her secret project... and, well, he was bound to find out about it eventually. So he opened the door and stepped inside.

Hermione turned around fast. "Harry, what are you doing in here? Didn't you see the sign?"

"Course I did. You didn't think that would keep me out, did you? Now, what the bloody hell are you doing in here?" There were tables set up all around the room, and on those tables were about a dozen laptop computers. "What's this...?"

Hermione looked down at her feet. "Do you remember a few months ago when you said it was impossible to make electronics work with magic?" she asked quickly. "Well, I've been trying."

"Oh, have you? Brilliant, have you done it yet?"

"That's it? You're not going to tease me about it?"

"Hermione!" Harry tilted her chin upwards so she was looking him in the eye. "Of course not. I'm not Ron—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that..."

But Hermione just giggled. "It's okay. Come on, do you want to help me?"

"Sure. How do you test it?"

"I just cast a simple spell on each of them, like a summoning charm or Wingardium Leviosa, and if they break, I know I've done it wrong."

"All right, then. Let's do it."

"Accio!" Hermione said, but instead of zooming toward her, the screen went blank.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry said, but instead of levitating, it made a high-pitched squealing noise.

"Accio!" Hermione said, making the machine smoke.

"Wingardium Levios_aaaar_," Harry said, causing the computer to explode.

Hermione screamed and ducked under a table. "Harry, that's not funny," she laughed. "You know you're saying it wrong. It's—"

"Levioooosa, not Leviosar," Harry finished.

* * *

><p><em>Saturday, 7 November 1998, 10:14 am<em>

Hermione pounded on the bathroom door for the fifth time that morning. "Harry, you've been in there for almost thirty minutes. What are you doing?"

Harry opened the door, a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. "I'm brushing my teeth, obviously."

"Well, are you going to spend all morning doing that, or did you want to actually do something today?"

He went over to the sink and spit; Hermione looked away. "No, not _all_ morning," Harry replied. "It's just that... well... your parents are dentists, and I could be meeting them any day now, and I don't want them to think I have bad teeth."

"Oh Harry," Hermione giggled. "I'm sure my parents will love you, regardless of your oral hygiene."

"Yeah, but it would still be nice to impress them a little bit."

"You saved the entire Wizarding world. I'd be pretty impressed by that."

"Hmm, you're right," he decided, throwing his toothbrush down on the counter.

* * *

><p><em>Sunday, 15 November 1998, 12:43 pm<em>

"Would you please relax, Harry? It's going to be fine."

Harry stopped tapping his foot—again. He looked up at Hermione; she smiled reassuringly. "The're going to love you," she said. "I promise."

He squeezed her hand for support. "All right. Let's do this."

"You sure you're ready?"

"Yeah."

Hermione reached forward and rang the doorbell.

After what felt like the longest ten seconds of Harry's life, someone opened the door. It was a very pretty woman with shoulder-length blonde hair and Hermione's eyes.

She looked very confused, staring at Hermione—there was no doubt she saw the resemblance. But she didn't recognize her own daughter. Harry saw tears pooling in Hermione's eyes, and he squeezed her hand again.

"Hello," Mrs. Granger said tentatively.

"Er... hi. My name is Hermione Granger, and this is Harry Potter. May we come in?"

"I... umm... Wendell! Can you come here a moment please?"

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other. What were they going to do if her parents wouldn't let them in? Harry privately thought that maybe Hermione hadn't handled that so well, but then how _should_ one handle such an awkward situation?

When Mr. Granger came to the door, Harry gasped. He looked almost scarily like Hermione. He, Mr. Granger, seemed shocked by this too, staring at his daughter as if she were from some other planet. They all waited, standing by the door, looking at each other in amazement, until Mr. Granger finally made a decision.

"Come on in," he said, stepping aside so they could pass. And then, Hermione bounded forward and threw her arms around her father. Harry didn't know how to react, so he just stood next to Mrs. Granger. He caught her eye for a moment and smiled; surprisingly, she smiled back.

About thirty minutes later, Hermione had removed the memory charms and explained to her parents what had been happening over the past year and a half. Now Harry was regaling them with a detailed account of the story.

"And then we jumped off the dragon and into the water—" The teapot whistled on the stove.

"I'll get it." Hermione jumped up and went into the kitchen. As she was getting mugs out of the cabinet, she felt someone squeeze her shoulder from behind.

"Hey," Harry said. "I have to tell you something."

"What's that?"

"Well, you know how your parents invited us to stay for Christmas? Well, after that, I want to train to be an Auror. And last night, I got a letter back from the Ministry, saying I could do it. What do you think? It would just be during the second term of Hogwarts. You still want to go, right?"

Hermione blinked. This was all quite... random. "Yes, of course." It was taking her a second to process the fact that they wouldn't see each other for six whole months. But they still had Christmas...

_(And this is where your author just wants to freaking move on to a more interesting part of the story already and could drag this out longer if she wanted to but she doesn't want to and she apologizes profusely for this sorry excuse for a chapter and hopes to have something better up by Sunday or Monday so we can just erase the last 4,000 words permanently from our minds.)_


	8. Letters from Hogwarts

Chapter Eight

_Harry and Hermione spent Christmas with Hermione's parents back at their house in England. Towards the middle of December, they each received a letter—Harry's from the head of the Auror office and Hermione's from Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione would be allowed to spend the next six months in Auror training and Hogwarts, respectively, and take their qualifying exams at the end of this time._

_Harry escorted Hermione to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters in early January. She promised to write to him, and he promised the same. Then they both departed for their destinations._

* * *

><p>11 January 1999<p>

Dear Harry,

Hogwarts isn't the same without you. I thought it would be kind of nice staying out of trouble for once, but it's actually rather monotonous. I miss letting you copy my History of Magic notes and rolling my eyes when you and Ron do something stupid. The seventh years are uninventive compared to you two. One boy released a Dungbomb in the hallway and everyone thought it was hilarious; he was so disappointed when I said I'd seen better. Everyone practically venerates me. They want to hear stories of our adventures, but they never believe me when I say it wasn't as glamourous as they imagine it to be. That's only a massive understatement, of course; the tent was anything but glamourous.

The classes are just the same as usual. It's nothing I can't handle, obviously. In fact, it's a good bit of spells I already know. This term is more of a formality than anything else, because of course I want to take my examinations. But all the professors are so happy to have me in their classes, because I can help everyone else. I've considered charging money for tutoring—do you think I should do it? We could make quite a bit of money, and it would give me something to do. It's been a week already, and my only extracurricular seems to be writing to you.

Ginny says hi. I told her I'd relay the message. It is a bit awkward to talk to her. I think she suspects something is happening between us. I'm not going to say anything about it—I would prefer not to lie, but I don't want her to know the truth either. She's actually seeing a Slytherin now, surprising as it is. I suppose since she's dated boys in all the other houses, she's exhausted her options. I mean, don't get me wrong, you know I love Ginny, but she does kind of have a hard time settling into a relationship. Who can blame her, though, when her paragon of a perfect boyfriend has always been you?

Have I mentioned how much I wish you were here? Do write back if you can find the time. I would like to hear how your Auror training is going. I love you. Keep yourself safe.

Love from, Hermione

* * *

><p>22-Jan-99<p>

Hermione,

You're lucky I miss you so much. I'm writing this in the dormitory's bathroom at like three in the morning. We're not allowed to have outside contact with anyone because it might spoil our training or something. You'd better hope I don't get kicked out, haha.

It's okay though. It's great to hear from you. All week I've been hanging round a ton of people who want my autograph. It's hard to get any time to myself at all, even just to take a nap or something.

The training sounds like it's going to be really rough. Right now it's a lot of basic defensive spells, which I'm great at, thanks to you, but soon it's going to get harder. As much as I want to get my Auror's license (certificate, degree, WHATEVER) I really just want to see you again.

Don't worry about Ginny. Lie if you have to. She probably won't ask though, because she probably doesn't want to know. Also, I definitely think you should charge money for tutoring. Who wouldn't pay to be taught by the brightest witch of her age?

Have fun at school. I hope I can keep getting and replying to your letters, but just know that if I stop responding, it's probably because I got caught. Hopefully I won't, but still. I love you so much.

- Harry

* * *

><p>27 January 1999<p>

Dear Harry,

You're not allowed to have outside contact with anyone? That's extremely unfortunate, though I suppose I can see why it would be necessary. I do hope you don't get caught. This affects your entire future, so please don't throw it all away just so you can talk to me. It's only six months, after all. We've been apart for longer than that before; it'll be okay. Actually, come to think of it, no we haven't. Never mind. Still, don't get yourself in trouble.

I know how you feel with people treating you like a celebrity. It's just a side effect of saving the world. They''ll get used to you after a while. People are starting to get used to me. Although, I guess it's different, because they knew me before and they just had to realise that I'm the same old person I was before we went out and fought Voldemort.

What kinds of things are you going to be doing? Are you learning potions? I'm sure you'll be great; you are the potions master, after all. You'll have to teach me some of it once all this is over, because I think it goes beyond N.E.W.T. levels and it would be fascinating to learn some of the stuff you are.

Harry, I can't lie. I feel way too guilty about it. I think I'll just have to avoid her. I get the feeling she doesn't exactly want to talk to me, either. I don't know, it seems like it would be better to just tell her and have it all out in the open. Ron, too.

Oh, is Ron there? I didn't know if he would be. I mean, you guys tend to do everything together. If he is, tell him I say hi. Wait, actually, don't, because then you'll get in trouble for having outside contact. Or maybe do it in secret. Or maybe we should just not let anyone know we are communicating. Yes, I think that's definitely the better idea.

Please don't risk getting in trouble to write back to me, okay?

Love from, Hermione

* * *

><p>8-Feb-99<p>

Hermione,

Please relax. Nothing is going to happen. I write to you in the early morning, no one's going to look for me in the storage closet to try and catch me sending illegal letters. And if they have nothing better to do with their lives, I feel sorry for them.

Besides, they can't kick me out. I'm Harry Potter... Just kidding.

It's better around here. People are finally starting to realize I'm just a normal bloke and not some obnoxious celebrity.

We're learning how to make Polyjuice Potion next week, so no, there's probably not much that you couldn't figure out. If there was a time I wish I still had Snape's old potions book...

Anyway, no, Ron isn't here. Good question though. I kind of wish he was, just so I wouldn't be all by myself.

Gotta run, I hear footsteps. Do well in your classes. Love you, bye.

- Harry

* * *

><p>21 February 1999<p>

Dear Harry,

I'm glad the work isn't too rigourous for you; goodness knows you deserve to be an Auror more than anyone. I'm sure you figured out the Polyjuice potion just fine, but please know that you can always write to me if you ever need any help, though I'm not sure how quickly I'd be able to respond. We could use those cell phones now more than ever.

Speaking of that! I've been working on it in the Room of Requirement during some of my spare time. It's coming along well: I was actually able to make a call from one of my phones to another. It only lasted a couple of seconds before the magic interfered, but I consider that a success. I wish Mr. Weasley were here. He's used to tinkering with things, and he might know how to help me. I'll talk to him about it the next time we're visiting. He's always liked me more than Mrs. Weasley has, anyway; I don't see the harm in making her hate me a bit more by encouraging her husband's illicit hobbies.

I'm sorry, I should stop. I don't know what her problem is with me, but I know you like her, and I'm being terribly rude. Anyway, onto a semi-pertinent topic: Ginny is Quidditch captain this year. I just found out the other day from Demelza. Apparently she runs a tight practice. Of course I don't know anything about Quidditch, so when a few of the girls were talking about it, I didn't pick up much, but it looks like Gryffindor has a pretty good chance this year. Or so I've heard. One day you'll have to teach me all about Quidditch, so that I can actually have some kind of comprehension of the only thing you're good at.

Harry, I'm only kidding, I hope you know. You're good at plenty of things. I don't know what's gotten into me today—I've been hanging out with Ginny and her friends too much. They're so mean to each other, I don't know how any of them can stand it. I mean, Ginny teases me, obviously, like we always have... but, I don't know, it feels less friendly than normal. I'm probably just imagining it, actually. Never mind that. She and Luna are the only seventh-years I hang out with regularly. We went to Hogsmeade together—you know, for Valentine's day—and it was loads of fun. Ginny brought her Slytherin boyfriend, and he's actually quite nice. He's a real gentleman. He bought her a really nice corsage and a ton of stuff from Zonko's... which was a bit less romantic, but they both got a laugh out of it, anyhow.

Oh, that's what I forgot! I didn't get you anything for Valentine's day! I really am sorry; I should have thought of it while we were in the village—I can't believe it slipped my mind. Although it's not like you'd have been able to receive it, based on what you've told me about your security measures. Whatever, we can go out for dinner during the summer, once we're both out of school. We'll have to visit my parents as well, and then find out where we're going to live...

I am getting ahead of myself, aren't I? We have plenty of time to figure all that out. I think the more pressing matter at the moment is the fact that it's Sunday evening and I still have homework. Look at how much I've written to you! Ridiculous. It's like a Transfiguration essay and a half—and I could have gone on! You know, I can ramble forever... Anyway, I'll hear from you later. Enjoy your training!

Love from, Hermione

* * *

><p>1-Mar-99<p>

Hermione,

Please don't worry about a stupid Valentine's day gift. I really don't care. I'd rather spend time with you, even though we can't right now.

It sounds like you're having a lot of fun. I'm glad. I really wish I could be there with you. Don't get me wrong, this is tons of fun, learning defensive spells and all that. Kind of like being in the DA again, except I'm not the teacher.

And I'm starting to make friends! Gosh, I sound like a first-year or something. But there are some really awesome peple here. There's this one guy, Jacob, who was my partner during some of the lessons. He's hilarious, I can't wait for you to meet him.

Is Ginny being mean to you? Because if she is, I swear to Merlin... whatever. Like I said, just lie. Think of it as a secret, okay? If she asks, we're not dating or whatever. We'll have to tell them at some point, but you don't need to deal with any of that drama right now.

Also, if Mrs. Weasley doesn't like you, there's something wrong with HER. Not you. Okay? She's probably still bitter because you broke Ron's heart or somethng.

Oh yeah, speaking of Ron, what did you get him for his birthday? I'm sure you know it's today, because you're loads better with dates and stuff than I am. I just sent him a card and explained why I couldn't give him a gift, haha. I got a letter from him a few weeks back, and he said he was having a big party with his family. I kinda wish we could have been there, you know? Ah, whatever, I'm glad he's happy.

I have to go to bed now. We have a quiz tomorrow... well, kind of an obstacle course thing. I'll need some sleep for that. I love you. Write back soon!

By the way, I knew you were joking when you said I wasn't good at anything. We all know I'm good at everything.

- Harry

* * *

><p>13 March 1999<p>

Dear Harry,

I miss the D.A. so much! It was such fun—the first time I ever got in real serious trouble, even though I didn't. At least it's a good experience for you, and you're not spending six months doing something you don't enjoy.

It's kind of funny how you're meeting so many people who didn't go to Hogwarts. I never would have thought there were so many witches and wizards who were alternatively educated. _Hogwarts, A History_ said a few words about it, of course; obviously we're not the only magical institution out there—but I'm surprised at the amount. I'd never want to homeschool my own kids—I'd be too scared to do it wrong! Where was I even going with this? Where did it come from? Anyway...

No, Harry, please don't worry about Ginny. She's fine. Like I said, she's one of the only people I really socialize with. I'm probably just imagining it, because I'm worried she's upset about our relationship. Although I'm not sure why she would be, considering I'm watching her snog her boyfriend in the restricted section... And I thought the library would be a nice quiet place to work...

Anyway, I didn't get Ron anything special. Just some sweets and a new pair of Quidditch boots—he's been complaining about his old ones for ages, though I'm not sure why it matters, as you don't really need boots while you're flying. I was going to get him this fascinating-looking novel about the projected future of magical transportation, but I didn't think he'd appreciate it too much. I was seriously considering buying it for myself, though, as there's basically nothing in the library I haven't read.

Oh, yes, I heard about the party too. Ginny snuck over to the Burrow by Floo Powder last Saturday so she could go. She suggested I accompany her, but I just gave her my gift and told her to wish Ron my best—of course I didn't want to get in trouble! She didn't get caught, though. She never does. But then again, neither did you. It's quite unfair, but I suppose that's just the way it is. Just the other day she passed notes in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Professor Kendall didn't say a thing.

Oh my gosh! I can't believe it's already March and I haven't told you about Professor Kendall yet! She's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, obviously. She's really good, too. She knows her stuff; I reckon we're learning some of the same spells you are. What's really great about her, though, is that she's funny. She makes one of the most serious classes in the curriculum seem like fun. And she's relaxed—she even swore in class the other day when her jinx backfired. Everyone thought it was hilarious, of course. I didn't laugh—Ginny called me a stick in the mud—but I might not have been able to help myself if you and Ron were there.

I've mentioned how much I miss you guys, right? There's a Hogsmeade weekend soon, and I'm going with Luna and some other Ravenclaws, but I wish I was going with you and Ron instead. Ginny said Ron and George might come visit—wouldn't that be fun? I hope they do. I like the Ravenclaws very much, but I miss how things used to be. I don't know, it just feels weird being here without you.

Okay, that's enough of this sentimental silliness. I love you. I have to go. I'm working on my phones today and I wanted to get an early start. I'll let you know how that's going later. Please behave yourself, and all that. You know what I'm going to say.

Love from, Hermione

* * *

><p>28-Mar-99<p>

Hermione,

I can't believe you can even write that the DA got you in trouble with a straight face. Who was the one who almost got expelled? And anyway, the reason you never get away with anything is because your prosecutors smell fear. If you're gonna do something bad, you gotta just do it! You can't sit there worrying about it, cause you'll get caught before you even do anything. Like me writing these letters, haha.

I think you should have gotten Ron that book. He would have loved it... NOT. It actually does sound kind of interesting, but only if you read it and summarize it for me in like three sentences.

But yeah, you're totally right about his Quidditch boots. I need new ones too, or else I would have just given him mine. Someday, when I explain Quidditch to you, you'll understand.

It's cool that you have a proper teacher. She'd probably be the first once since Lupin, because Moody was, you know, not really who he said he was and trying to kill me or whatever. She sounds hilarious though. Mainly because I've never heard a teacher swear in class.

I miss Hogwarts too. I'm jealous that Ron may get to see you. I would find a way to visit if I could, but... ugh, I wish security wasn't so tight. Have fun! I can't wait to see you. Like, for real. I love you.

- Harry

* * *

><p>10 April 1999<p>

Dear Harry,

Oh my gosh, you might be seeing me sooner than you think! I'm so excited right now that I can barely write! Okay, so today after Transfiguration class, McGonagall called me up to the front of the room. I thought she was just going to congratulate me on my perfect conjuring spell—because, let's face it, it was perfect—but no! Well, she did, but after that she told me something else. She asked me to write to you and see if you could come to Hogwarts on the weekend of 1 May. I told her you're in Auror training but I'd ask you anyway and she said she might try to get you out of it. I haven't even mentioned what this is about yet, have I? I'm sorry, I'm just so excited and I'm not really thinking before I write. It's for this kind of celebration they're doing. You know, cause it's the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, and they were hoping that you, me, and Ron could be there. Obviously Ron and I can, but you're the most important one. McGonagall said she was writing to your director—supervisor—what do you call the person in charge? Whatever! The point is, we might see each other before July!

This is probably going to be the shortest letter I ever write in my entire life, because I have a huge pile of homework waiting for me and it's already seven in the evening. I just wanted to let you know about this, because I'm extremely excited. I love you, and MAYBE I'LL SEE YOU IN THREE WEEKS! AHHHH!

Love from, An extremely happy Hermione

* * *

><p>19-Apr-99<p>

Hermione,

I have good news! I'm allowed to come, so I'll see you in like two weeks! I'm so glad. I need a break. We're getting to the harder parts of the training. The dark wizard detection and concealment parts were okay, so were the defensive parts because I already knew a lot of that stuff, but now we're getting to the actual catching dark wizards part. And, well, there's lots of running and jumping and ducking and, oh yeah, getting knocked over. A lot. So a break from falling on my ass will be really nice.

The festival or whatever at Hogwarts sounds exciting. I'm so happy I'm going to be there! I can't wait to see you and Ron. Especially you.

- Harry

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope you liked this chapter. I like it. I know it's a little different but I was in the mood to shake it up a bit! :)<strong>


	9. Two Can Keep A Secret

Chapter Nine

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, tapping her foot quickly. It was all she could do to not jump around with excitement. She was the only one in Gryffindor Tower; everyone else had gone down to breakfast. But she was too full of anticipation to possibly put anything in her stomach.

Today she was finally going to see Harry.

She'd done up her hair, making sure her curls were sleek and shiny rather than frizzy. Since it was a semi-formal event, she was dressed up in a one-sleeved black-and-grey floral-patterned dress. Though she'd spent the last few nights debating between this old-fashioned yet modern number and something more radical and colorful, she didn't really care about her outfit anymore. Her mind was too preoccupied with other, more important things—like how she'd missed Harry's goofy smile and his green eyes and his voice and the way he smelled and how his arms felt around her…

The wait was all too much! Unable to stay still any longer, she stood and descended to the common room, then peered out a window. She could see six or seven long purple tables in a row and a stage at the far end of it all. There was going to be a luncheon at one in the afternoon and a dance afterwards, with a band and everything. Then a ton of people were making speeches. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were probably going to be three of those people.

Honestly, though, until Professor McGonagall had told her about the party, Hermione hadn't even realized how big of a deal the whole thing was. Sure, they had defeated Voldemort and saved the entire world, but a celebration on the anniversary of the event was really the last thing she'd expected.

Not that she minded, of course. It meant that she got to see Harry.

He should be arriving any minute now—Professor McGonagall had said some time between nine and ten, and it was about nine-thirty. Hermione looked past everything going on in the courtyard and watched the gates to the grounds in anticipation.

Suddenly, the low fire in the grate flared up and turned emerald green. Hermione whipped around to find an unmistakable head of scruffy black hair climbing out of the fireplace. He barely had time to stand up and fix his glasses, when—

"HARRY!" Hermione screamed, hurtling toward him. She flung herself into his arms with such force that he almost fell over. He staggered backward but caught his balance and returned the embrace.

"Hey," he said quietly. "I've missed you."

"Well I haven't missed you," she joked, murmuring into his shoulder. "In fact, I have a date to the party. That's why I'm all dressed up."

He pulled back and raised his eyebrows. "Who's the lucky guy? Is he good-looking, at least? I hope he's nice to you."

Hermione burst into giggles. "Yes, he's quite good-looking. Well-mannered, polite… a real catch. You may know him as Zacharias Smith, but I prefer to address him as Zackiepoo. It's real cute, you know? Just like him."

It was Harry's turn to laugh now. "I love you."

"I love you too," Hermione replied, pulling his face down to hers for a kiss.

When their lips met, warmth spread instantly through Hermione's body. She felt strong and secure and comfortable and _happy_.

Before long, a boy's voice spoke in the corridor. "Leprechaun Gold," it said, using the festive Saint Patrick's Day password that had yet to be changed. Hermione jumped back, making sure to put a foot of distance between herself and Harry. It was a good thing, too, because in the portrait hole, looking as redheaded and gangly as ever, stood Ron and George Weasley.

"Hi!" Hermione chirped, her heart still racing as she bounded forward to hug them both. Harry followed closely behind her. She began to chatter nervously. "Are Bill and Fleur here? What about Percy? Obviously Ginny is, because she…" One look from Harry silenced her. Everyone knew Hermione babbled when she was nervous.

"Percy is downstairs and Bill and Fleur will be here around noon," George answered, not seeming to have noticed anything. He still looked rather melancholy, probably over the loss of his twin. _Of course,_ Hermione reasoned, _that's not the kind of thing you just forget about. If something were to happen to…_ She stopped herself mid-thought; she wasn't prepared to think about that right now.

"They'll be just in time, then," she said, shaking the bad thoughts away. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you two!" She put one arm each around Harry and Ron, then pulled her best friends close.

"Hey, what am I, cockroach cluster?" George said indignantly.

She laughed. "Of course not. Get over here!" George promptly joined their hug.

Hermione had planned to help out before the event; however, when her best friends arrived, she forgot about any such obligation. She, Harry, and Ron were so happy to see each other that they spent the entire morning sitting in the common room and just talking, catching each other up. Hermione told them both about her school year, Harry about his Auror training camp, and Ron about working in his brother's shop. It was an enjoyable morning, to say the least: almost like the three of them had never been apart. Though, Hermione found it difficult to keep off Harry. She'd have liked to kiss him again, but she didn't dare in front of Ron.

At quarter to one, they decided it was time to head down to the courtyard. Ron climbed straight out the portrait hole, and Harry was preparing to follow him, when Hermione pulled him aside.

Harry had no idea what this could be about. "We have to go, Mione, the party is about to start," he said.

Hermione leaned toward his ear and whispered, "When are we going to tell them?"

He jumped back right away. "We're not."

"But Harry—"

"Look." He grabbed her arm. "We _will_ do it, okay? They have to know at some point. Just… not this weekend. I don't want to ruin everything. We haven't seen them in so long, and it's supposed to be a _celebration_. We can't celebrate if—"

The Fat Lady swung back open. "You two coming or not?" Ron asked, peeking his head in suspiciously.

"Of course," Hermione said. "Let's go."

Ron eyed them both but didn't say anything else.

The three of them got to sit at a special table with Professor McGonagall and all the other teachers, as well as some important Ministry people Hermione didn't know. She could see Kingsley Shacklebolt behind a group of Aurors in black robes.

"You know they made Kingsley Minister of Magic, right?" Harry said to Hermione as she sat down between him and Ron.

She said "yes" at the same time Ron said "no."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron, do you pay _any_ attention at all to things going on in the world?"

"Some," Ron said defensively. "It's not like I'm tapped into everything like you are at Hogwarts, or like I'm training to work for the Ministry, like Harry."

"Yes, but your dad works at the Ministry, and you work in one of the biggest wizard communities—"

"Hermione, drop it," Harry said.

"Thank you!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione turned to Harry and frowned.

"Look, we both know you're right," he whispered in her ear. "But there's really no point arguing about it. We're here to celebrate, remember? Let's just… I don't know…"

But Harry didn't need to finish his thought: Hermione seemed assuaged by the words "you're right" and didn't say another thing about it.

Harry took that opportunity to change the subject. "So, Ron, what do you want to do with your life? You could work at the Ministry if you wanted—heck, you could even be an Auror like me." Harry missed seeing his best mate every day, and working alongside each other seemed like fun.

Ron swallowed the huge bite of pork chop in his mouth before responding. "You know, I haven't thought about it much. I can't work in the shop all my life; not if I want to support a family one day…" He glanced quickly at Hermione, who was looking extremely interested in her stew.

"Well, you should consider being an Auror," Harry said with a wink, trying to diffuse the tension. "You could totally do it. Look how many situations we've gotten ourselves out of! Plus, the ladies love it—"

Hermione kicked him under the table. He tried not to laugh, while Ron just shook his head at the pair of them.

At the next table over, Ginny was doing the same thing. She'd purposefully seated herself so she could easily see the trio, and she'd been sneaking furtive glances at them the entire meal. And she didn't know what to think about the things she'd observed. It was the first time she'd seen Harry and Hermione together in almost a year, and so far, they didn't seem to be acting much differently… but she couldn't figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing…

"Babe, are you okay?" asked the tall, dark-haired Slytherin boy next to her.

Ginny gave a guilty start. "Yeah, I'm fine…"

Across the table, Luna swatted her hand through the air. "I thought I felt some Wrackspurts around here."

"It's all right, Luna, I think Marcus got them," Ginny giggled. She immediately sobered up, however, when she saw Hermione laughing and wiping Harry's face with a napkin. _It doesn't matter,_ she told herself. _She's just wiping his face. He probably had something on it, and she's having a clean freak episode. And anyway, what do I care? I'm dating someone._ Ginny sighed. She liked her boyfriend Marcus quite a lot. He always made her laugh, he was good at Quidditch, and the two of them were certainly… physically compatible. But more importantly, when he was with her, she all but forgot that Harry existed. That was until Hermione came along, of course.

When Hermione came back to Hogwarts in January, she brought a ton of Ginny's memories with her. It all replayed like a horror movie in her head: all the times Harry had told Hermione she was brilliant and amazing; that look in his eyes when he watched her do something intellectual and impressive; the way he could just stand there hugging her for minutes on end and not even notice anything else; the playful, knowing glances they exchanged; his pinky finger reaching for hers as they walked over the hill, laughing, that last day…

Ginny looked down at her knee-length herringbone dress, but all she could see through the tears in her eyes was a big turquoise puddle. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned her head to find Marcus watching her with concern in his blue eyes. "Are you sure you're all right, Gin?" he asked.

"Yeah. Really, I'm okay." She pasted a smile on her face and twirled her long hair into a low side ponytail, just to give her hands something to do.

Luna looked at her quite seriously. "Ginny? Do you have a Humdinger under your seat? They've been known to cause despair, but you can never really see them long enough to catch them—they do hop away rather fast when they think they're being watched, you know."

Ginny burst out laughing in spite of being upset. _There's Luna for you_, she thought.

Back at the trio's table, Harry was talking to Kingsley Shacklebolt, discussing the Auror training program at length and how it had changed since Kingsley's day. Hermione was very interested in this as well, but Ron looked bored as he finished his dessert. Instead of cutting himself another slice of pie when he was done, he looked over at Hermione. Her hair looked smooth and silky, almost reflecting the sunlight. Her warm brown eyes were wide open; she was rapt by what Kingsley was saying. Ron tried not to make it too obvious that he was staring, but he couldn't bring himself to look away. She seemed almost more beautiful than she had the last time he'd seen her.

Hermione started speaking, and Harry turned to look at her. It was then that he saw Ron looking as well. Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend, and Ron turned away, his ears going scarlet. Harry sighed. Ron couldn't still have feelings for Hermione, could he? That just meant it was going to be even more difficult to tell him the truth. Then Harry wanted to kick himself. Why was that his first worry? Guilt came next—but wait, why should he feel guilty? It wasn't like he'd tried to steal his best friend's girl away. Hermione had chosen Harry over Ron; that wasn't Harry's fault. She'd been the one to say she loved him first, and she'd been the one to initiate the kiss… should Harry not have gone along? Should he have pretended like he didn't love her, so she could be with Ron? But why would he do that, if that wasn't what either of them wanted?

He buried his face in his hands. Almost a year had gone by between then and now, and he still felt like he was being forced to choose between his two best friends. He didn't want to lose Ron's friendship for anything, but he loved Hermione more than anyone in the entire world and didn't want to be without her. He was terrified of losing either one of them.

All of this was too much for him, and he squeezed Hermione's hand under the table. She looked surprised for a moment then turned and smiled at him reassuringly, which made him feel better, even though she didn't know exactly what was wrong.

"Harry, do you need to talk about something?" she asked so quietly that Harry had to read her lips to understand.

He was about to respond when McGonagall stood up. Once she had silenced everyone, she started to speak. "Now we are going to move on to the dance portion of the afternoon. If you would all please stand…"

Everyone stood, and all the food vanished. The purple tablecloths melted onto the ground to make the dance floor, and the tables and chairs sprung over to the side. There was a puff of smoke on the stage, and four young witches in different-colored metallic pantsuits appeared. There was a collective scream from the crowd, but Harry and Hermione just shrugged at each other. An upbeat pop song started.

Ron cleared his throat. "Hermione, do you want to dance?"

Hermione looked at Harry. He gave a small nod, and she smiled at him before accepting Ron's offer and disappearing into the crowd with him.

Harry stood there awkwardly on the side of the dance floor. He considered asking Ginny to dance, but she was already out there with some tall guy. They were both laughing and moving around so fast that his brown hair was coming out of its slicked-back style. Harry had forgotten about her boyfriend, but he was actually glad. At least she was happy… and if Harry danced with her, she might get the wrong impression.

Someone tapped Harry on the shoulder. He turned around to find Luna Lovegood in a yellow strapless dress. All of her hair was in a long braid laced with strands of pearls. "You look lonely over here," she said in her usual dreamy tone.

"Yeah, kind of. Thanks, Luna. How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm very well, thank you. I'm kind of sad to be leaving Hogwarts in a few months, even though most everyone constantly teased me. I'll miss it a lot."

"I know what you mean," Harry replied.

Luna tilted her head to the side and scrutinized Harry. "You seem upset. I wonder if the Humdinger at our table made it over to yours, too."

Harry had long learned by now never to ask what Luna meant. He just went with it and nodded. "Probably."

"Would you like to dance?" she asked.

"I'd love to," he replied, extending his hand.

Luna danced gracefully, canceling out Harry's bumbling awkwardness. He was actually beginning to enjoy himself when a slow song came on.

She seemed to notice his hesitancy. "You don't have to slow-dance with me if you don't want to, Harry."

"No, Luna, it's not that—you're great. I just… come with me."

He pulled her over to the side of the dance floor, and they crept around while everyone was dancing. Harry tried to peer through the mass of dancing couples, but he couldn't see anything.

"Who are you looking for?" Luna asked.

Harry sighed. "Ron and Hermione."

"Well, they're right there." She pointed to a couple near the middle of the dance floor, and Harry had to squint, but he saw them. Ron had a huge smile on his face; Hermione, not so much. She determinedly avoided his eyes, looking like she would have given anything to be somewhere else.

"Are they together?" Luna asked. "Because Hermione doesn't seem very happy."

Harry snorted. "No, Ron wishes. Hermione and I are… but you can't tell anyone, okay, Luna? No one really knows yet…" He didn't know what made him say that, but he knew Luna wouldn't repeat it.

"I didn't even hear you," she said vaguely. Harry smiled.

He looked at Ron and Hermione again. Now they appeared to be arguing. Hermione, at least, looked angry. Ron seemed blissful still. He said something, and Hermione's face softened. Then he leaned forward and tried to kiss her.

Harry felt rage bubbling up inside him and spilling over. His vision went red, and he had the strong urge to curse Ron into a million tiny pieces… even though he hadn't actually kissed her. Hermione was now running towards the castle, Ron standing there by himself and looking like an idiot.

Luna patted his arm. "Harry, are you all right?"

"Just give me a minute, okay?" Harry clapped his hands over his eyes and took deep breaths. Nothing had happened.

But something could have, had Hermione not realized what was going on. No, she was too smart for that. She'd seen the way he looked at her the entire time they were dancing. She had to know what he was thinking.

"Do you want to sit down?" he asked Luna.

"Yes. You look like you need some time to relax."

They sat down at one of the tables with some other students who didn't like to dance. Harry kept his eyes off Ron, because he was still mad, and he didn't want to rekindle his fury. He was starting to feel calm again when a redheaded figure emerged from the crowd and sat down across from Harry and Luna.

"Hey," Ron said, looking embarrassed.

"Hi Ron," Luna replied. Harry didn't say a thing.

"So, um… Hermione went inside." Ron's whole face turned red.

"Perhaps she was worried you were going to kiss her again," Luna said.

"I didn't even get to kiss her the first time!" Ron spluttered. "She ran away! She doesn't like me any more than she did a year ago."

"A year ago, _she_ was the one who kissed _you_," Harry spat. "Don't complain. She liked you just fine."

Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry. "What's your problem?"

Harry rolled his eyes and looked away.

"Maybe she's seeing someone else," Luna offered.

"Why wouldn't she have told me?"

Harry jumped in before Luna could respond. "She doesn't need to tell you anything. You guys aren't dating anymore, so you don't need to know. Ginny didn't tell me when she started dating that Slytherin bloke."

Ron frowned. "Is that what's bothering you? Seeing Ginny with her boyfriend?"

"No, I just—" Harry paused for a moment. Maybe it was better to let Ron think that. "Yeah, kind of," he said, avoiding Ron's eyes.

"I'm sorry, mate. Look, I can talk to Ginny if you want—"

"Er, no, that won't be necessary. She's already dating someone… I don't want to get in the way of their relationship."

"Okay. If you're sure, then," Ron said.

Just then, he saw two people running from the castle. Well, Hermione was running. Behind her, Mr. Weasley was trying hard to keep up. Harry was worried she was going to crash into the table, but she just slid gracefully into the seat next to him. Her face was flushed with excitement. "Harry, I—"

Mr. Weasley sat down next to Ron. "My goodness, Hermione," he panted. "I am getting older, you know. I can't run as fast as I used to."

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I was just so excited."

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

"You have to come up to the seventh floor and see." Hermione's eyes twinkled mischievously.

Harry looked from Mr. Weasley to Hermione. "You didn't—"

"We did," Mr. Weasley said.

"Wait," Ron interrupted. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Oh, nothing," Hermione replied. "Your dad just helped me with a little project I've been working on, that's all."

Harry stood up. "Let's go test it out."

Ron looked like he was having an internal struggle. Should he follow them, or should he stay put? He was about to get up, when Ginny and Marcus walked over.

"Hey," Ginny said. She'd taken her hair out again, and it spilled across her shoulders, all messed up from dancing.

"We'll be back in a few minutes," Hermione called as she, Harry, and Mr. Weasley started walking back toward the castle. "Oh, and hi Ginny. And Marcus."

The two of them sat down in Harry and Hermione's empty seats. "Where are they going?" Ginny asked.

"Beats the hell out of me," Ron said miserably.

Inside the Room of Requirement, Hermione had set up a few tables, much like the spare bedroom of their house in Australia. Except the cell phones on these tables allegedly worked.

Harry picked one up gingerly. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, of course! Mr. Weasley showed me how to put the right kind of impervious charm on the microprocessor—"

"The what?"

"Just trust me."

"Okaaaaay." Harry flipped the phone open. "Er, how do you turn it on?"

"You've never used a cell phone before?" Hermione giggled.

Harry tossed it to her. "Of course not, when would I have? The Dursleys didn't let me use theirs. Turn it on for me, will you?"

Hermione caught the phone and turned it on. "There. Now I'm going to go outside and call you. You stay in here."

A few seconds later, after Hermione had left, the phone in Harry's hands trilled. He opened it and pressed it to his ear, but it continued making noise.

"Press the green button," Mr. Weasley told him.

Harry did that and spoke into the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi!" Hermione said from the other end. "Can you hear me okay?"

"Yeah, I can hear you just fine."

"The signal's not fuzzy or anything?"

"No, it's crystal clear."

"YES!" Hermione shouted. "I'll be right back in." The line went dead, and Harry placed the phone back on the table. The door opened, and Hermione dashed inside and flung her arms around Harry. "Do you know what this means?" she asked, jumping up and down.

"That you're going to choke me if you don't stop bouncing?"

"No. Sorry." She let go and took a step back.

"That I don't have to wash the dishes by hand when you're on the phone anymore?" he guessed again.

"Closer, but no. This is going to revolutionize the entire future of wizarding communication!"

"So I can still wash the dishes by magic, right?"

Hermione hit him playfully on the arm. "You're missing the big picture, Harry. Owls are nice, and of course I love writing letters, but it's not the same as hearing someone's voice, and it's certainly not instant."

"Making a fellytone call would be much more convenient than those flying memos we use," Mr. Weasley chimed in.

"It's called a telephone," Hermione giggled. "But yes."

The entire walk back to the courtyard, Hermione babbled on about how no one would ever have to stick their heads in a fireplace again. But she didn't get to go on much longer, because it was getting late, and it was almost time for the speech-making part of the ceremony…

Late that night, after the whole thing was over, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny sat around the fire in the Gryffindor common room. The other Weasleys had gone home a few hours ago, and Harry was excused from his Auror training until tomorrow afternoon, so he decided to hang around a bit. He looked over at Hermione. She seemed a bit tense, huddled with her knees curled to her chest.

"Did I tell you guys that Ron tried to kiss me?" she asked, pulling awkwardly at the hem of her cotton pajama bottoms.

Ginny gasped. "He did not!"

"Yeah, he did. I saw him," Harry said.

"What did you do?" Ginny leaned forward in her chair.

Hermione shrugged. "I just went away. I've told him several times I don't see him like that, but he doesn't seem to get it. He thinks I'm in denial or something."

"Well, are you?" Ginny asked.

Harry and Hermione burst out laughing. "If I was, I'd hardly admit it to you," Hermione said.

This made Harry stop laughing. "You don't like Ron, do you?"

"Of course I do; he's a perfectly fine individual."

"That's not what I meant."

Ginny playfully threw a pillow at him. "Oh, can it, Harry. If she liked him like that, he wouldn't have spent the last year moping around, would he?"

Hermione shook her head. "Ginny, I'm sorry you've had to put up with that."

"Whatever. It's kind of funny. And anyway, I've been here." Ginny didn't mention that the more troubling part was constantly wondering what Harry and Hermione were doing together all by themselves…

"I'll be right back." Hermione stood up. "I want some water." They both watched her walk up the girls' staircase, not knowing what to say to each other.

Once she was gone, Ginny sighed. "I miss you, Harry."

"Well, I'm right here," he replied, oblivious to her deeper meaning.

"No, I mean… whatever. I miss _us_."

Harry looked around to see if anyone was listening, but there weren't that many people left; most of them had gone up to bed. "What do you mean?" he asked quietly. "You're dating someone else."

Ginny's face fell. "How did you know?"

"I, er, saw you two dancing."

"Yeah, but you danced with Luna. And Ron danced with Hermione."

"And Hermione may have mentioned it earlier…"

"Oh, that Hermione," Ginny said flatly.

"Look, Gin, it doesn't matter either way. To be perfectly honest, I'm interested in someone else. You're a great girl, you really are, and I'm sure Marcus likes you a lot. I'd hate to be responsible for ruining your relationship."

"I could break up with him," she offered halfheartedly.

Harry shook his head. "Do you even like him enough that breaking up with him would be difficult?"

Ginny wanted to say: _Yes, of course I do. And it would be difficult, but worth it, because I think I love you…_

Instead she kept her mouth firmly shut, wondering who else he could possibly be "interested in" as Hermione walked back down the stairs.

Things were bit tense after that, which resulted in Ginny going to bed before Harry and Hermione. She got so fed up with trying to dissect their behavior that she irritably bid them goodnight about twenty minutes after her conversation with Harry. This left Harry and Hermione the last two people in the common room.

"What's her issue?" Hermione asked, once the dormitory door had slammed shut.

Harry shook his head. "She's upset because I didn't want to go out with her."

"But what about Marcus?"

"She wanted to break up with him for me."

Hermione groaned. "Why didn't we just tell them earlier like I said we should?"

"Because then this day would have been even more miserable than it already was," Harry snapped.

Tears started pooling in Hermione's eyes. She tried to turn away so Harry wouldn't see, but she wasn't quick enough. He jumped up and pulled her to her feet, then he held her close, stroking her hair. "I'm sorry," he said gently. "You know I had a great time most of the day; it's just the drama that gets to me. I wish it would go away and we could be friends with Ron and Ginny again, that's all."

"I know," she said, wiping her eyes. "I don't mean to get so upset like this. I'm just sad that this was our only day to see each other until July and it turned out this way."

"Me too," Harry agreed. "But it's only two more months now. And we have those cell phones, so we don't have to wait ten days for the post anymore."

Hermione smiled. "You're right."

"Finally? Hallelujah." They both laughed, and Hermione hugged him again.

"I love you," she said.

Harry kissed her forehead. "I love you too."

They stood there for a few more minutes, until Hermione said she was tired and wanted to go to bed. She set off for the dormitory, and Harry went to the Room of Requirement to ask for a bedroom. When they said goodbye the next day, they were both confident that this period of separation was not going to be near as bad as the last.


	10. Movin' On Up

**AN: HI YOU GUYS OMG sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I've been busy, as always. I hope you enjoy the chapter, though. And if it makes you feel any better (which it probably won't, because this is what I said last time and I was lying), I'm trying to get back into writing and I hope to continue this all the way through to the end. Okay? I love you guys. Enjoy.**

Chapter Ten

The moment Harry woke up on 31 July, someone's hands swooped down on him and tied a blindfold over his eyes.

"What the—?" He panicked, sitting bolt upright. "Who are you? What are you doing?"

"Relax," Hermione's voice said. "It's just me."

Harry calmed down a bit, but he was still confused. "What are you doing, Mione?" he asked, reaching over to the nightstand for his glasses. However, before he could find them, she stopped his hand.

"I've got your glasses," she informed him. "Now, get up. I have something to show you."

"And the blindfold is necessary?"

"Yes."

"Okay, whatever."

"Just follow me downstairs."

Hermione helped him off the bed and out of the room. They'd been staying at her parents' house for the past month, and it practically felt like Harry's home now; it was easy for him to find the kitchen even though he couldn't see.

He felt his glasses slide into his hand, and Hermione untied the blindfold. When he put his glasses on, his jaw dropped.

The floral wallpaper and wooden cabinets of the kitchen were entirely invisible, due to the red and gold hangings draped over everything. On the table was a huge rectangular cake with chocolate icing. But Harry couldn't see the chairs or anything, because the table was surrounded by brightly-wrapped presents.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" the Grangers shouted. His face broke into a huge smile. Hermione kissed his cheek, then grabbed his hand and pulled him to the table.

He looked around at all the presents. "You didn't buy all these...?" There had to be at least thirty boxes.

"Oh, shut up, it's your birthday," Hermione said.

Mrs. Granger smiled at him. "Of course not, dear," she assured him. "Some of them are from the Weasleys, and some of them are from your other friends. They've been arriving all week, but we've hidden them in the closet under the stairs."

Harry smacked his forehead playfully. "Why didn't I think to look there?"

Everyone laughed, and Hermione hugged him. "Because now you sleep in a comfortable bedroom with me," she answered. Mr. and Mrs. Granger came forward and wrapped their arms around Harry and Hermione. Harry grinned, feeling safe and surrounded by love.

"Harry, you have to open mine first," Hermione said, her eyes shining like a little kid's on Christmas morning.

"Of course."

She thrust a long, rectangular box into his arms. He looked up at her questioningly, but she just smiled and nodded toward the package. Once he'd torn the wrapping paper open and yanked the gift out of its box, he found himself totally speechless.

"Hermione, how much money did you spend on this?" he asked, pointing to the Firebolt in his lap.

"I didn't," she replied simply.

Tears immediately came to his eyes. "This isn't... mine?" he whispered.

"Check the bottom."

He pushed the bristles aside, and sure enough, there was his name, _Harry James Potter_, written in his own thirteen-year-old handwriting.

"How did you get this?" He'd meant to shout, but he was so overcome with emotion that he could barely choke out the words. This broom was from Sirius. It was one of the last things he'd owned from his godfather, and it meant so much more to him than just something he used to play Quidditch.

Hermione shrugged. "I just went back to the place you dropped it."

"But I dropped it over two years ago."

"I didn't say it was easy to find."

At this, Harry stood up and took Hermione in his arms, the broomstick still in his hand. "I love you. I love you so much. You don't know what this means to me. I... thank you. I love you." Then he kissed her, right there in front of her parents.

"Well, I don't know how we're going to top that, Emily," Hermione's dad said to her mum.

Mrs. Granger laughed. "I don't know if we can."

Harry and Hermione broke apart. "Here, let me take that so you can open your other presents," Hermione said, but Harry knew she just wanted an excuse to turn around and hide her red cheeks from her parents.

Before the morning was half over, Harry could easily say it was the best birthday he'd ever had.

His life was about to get even more exciting, because the day after his birthday, he and Hermione went looking for a house of their own. They eventually found a little one-bedroom flat not too far away from her parents' house, except this time the previous owners had been wizards. They spent most of August moving in and getting settled... and they spent most of their savings on furniture. But it would be okay, because Harry was due to start work as an Auror, and Hermione—although she had no clue where she wanted to work yet—was making money off of her cell phones. In fact, she told him she almost considered it a full-time job, perfecting computers and even television sets for Wizarding consumers. Harry was in no place to argue, since this was bringing in so much money.

Even after Hermione had created marketable, magic-proof versions of all practical household electronics, she still wasn't satisfied with her accomplishments. By October, she'd written a nonfiction novel about the brainwashing of house-elves by Wizarding society, which got her noticed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. She was offered one of their top positions, and she accepted, vowing to bring reform to the way wizards think.

"It's all stems from convention, Harry," she told him over a bottle of wine, the night she'd gotten the call from the Ministry. "We've been taught to believe that they are beneath us for so long that it's difficult for us to think anything different. If we start at the root—say, education: this should be part of a class at Hogwarts. They should teach us how all magical creatures are equal. And then, of course, there should be a law, that families with house-elves have to treat them right..."

Harry could barely listen to what she was saying, because he was so blown away by all she had done. She'd really made a name for herself. Whenever they went out in public together, people didn't see them as "Harry Potter and his smart friend." They saw Harry Potter and Hermione Granger: two people who changed the Wizarding world. Except, Harry hadn't done anything but been born in late July. The prophecy was the real reason he'd defeated Voldemort. Hermione had done all of this stuff on her own.

On Halloween, they wanted to visit Godric's Hollow, but there was just too much to do. The past few months of their life had been crazy. They both had off work on the actual Halloween Sunday; however, Harry had a project he was working on, and Hermione had a big press event in the evening, so they agreed that it was best to go another time. Instead they stayed home.

Around midday, Harry came out of the study. He needed a break from filing criminals' names, and anyway, he'd smelled something baking. When he walked into the kitchen, he burst out laughing. There was Hermione, covered in flour, surrounded by trays and trays of cupcakes.

"What's going on in here?"

Hermione sighed. "Fiona, the Department Chair, asked that we all bring a dessert to the press conference tonight. The last thing left on the list was cupcakes."

"So why didn't you go down to the bakery and buy some?" Harry asked, although one appraising look from Hermione made it obvious why. She didn't do anything halfway, so if she had to bring cupcakes, she was bringing the prettiest, most delicious homemade cupcakes they'd ever seen, damn it.

"Don't just stand there gawking; grab an oven mitt and help me."

"Why don't you just use magic?"

"I don't believe in using magic to shirk household chores."

"Baking shouldn't be a chore, Cupcake. It should be something you do for fun."

Hermione put down the tray she was holding. "Please don't call me Cupcake. Heaven forbid that awful nickname should stick."

Harry knelt down in front of her and threw his arms out dramatically. "Oh Cupcake, oh Cupcake, wherefore art the sprinkles on thy cupcakes?" He picked up a container of decorative sprinkles and continued his monologue. "A cupcake without sprinkles would be just as sweet, but would look bland and boring compared to Charlotte's colorful cookies—"

"Oh, shut up, Sprinkles. I didn't know you read Shakespeare in Auror training. And anyway, Charlotte's cookies are always pretty because she's the receptionist. Some of us don't have time to go home and bake after work."

"May I help decorate your cupcakes, Cupcake?" Harry said over his laughter.

"Of course, my dear Sprinkles."

And as much as Hermione didn't want the names to stick, they addressed each other as nothing but Cupcake and Sprinkles for the rest of the day.

That night at the department press conference, Hermione would be giving an interview about her "rise to fame" (she'd used air quotes when explaining it to Harry).

"Why are you being sarcastic, Hermione?" he'd asked. "You really are famous."

"No I'm not. You are. I didn't do anything except perform an Impervious Charm that happened to change the future of magical communication. Anyone could have done it," she'd insisted.

"Yes, but no one else _did_."

Even though Harry had failed to convince her of her worth as a public figure, she'd agreed to the televised interview, provided she'd be allowed to say a few words on house-elves. (Harry had seen her notes and knew that to say her speech was "a few words" was a colossal understatement.)

But it was too late to change anything now. The cameras were set and ready to roll. The whole Wizarding world was about to hear Hermione's story.

Even the Weasleys.

Ginny and Molly Weasley were sitting in their living room just minutes before Hermione's interview. They had just purchased their television this week, with Ginny's very first Quidditch paycheck, and they hadn't yet managed to use it properly. Mrs. Weasley sat in her armchair while Ginny sat on the floor in front of the TV, moving the antenna and flipping through the channels, hoping to find something.

And what she did find was not something she'd expected.

"Hello witches and wizards, I'm Brooke Waverly, and tonight I'm talking to Hermione Granger, the brilliant young woman who brought us the television sets you are looking at right now."

The first thing she thought to do when she saw Hermione's face on the screen was to yell "RON! COME DOWN HERE!" at the top of her lungs.

Her brother came thundering down the stairs. "What is it?" he asked, once he was within Ginny's earshot.

She beckoned wildly with her hand "Come here! Look!"

He sat down on the floor next to her. "Oh my God. Is that... Hermione?"

"No, idiot, it's Auntie Muriel—of course it's Hermione!"

Ron was too busy staring open-mouthed at the television to pick up on Ginny's insult. Hermione looked pretty as ever—even in her sensible dress and blazer. She had a microphone clipped to her lapel... what was going on?

An off-screen voice began to speak. "So, Miss Granger, these past few months have been a massive success for you. How did you go from inventor to author to politician, all in under a year?"

Hermione smiled modestly. "Well, Brooke, I'd hardly call myself a politician. Nor an inventor, even. I just took some things that Muggles have been using for decades and made them compatible with magic."

"And where did you get this idea?"

"Well, I'm Muggle-born, see, and it's just frustrating to not be able to call my mum and dad on their cell phones."

"How did you do it? I think we're all dying to know..."

Hermione laughed. "I obviously can't say, because it would be very bad for business. But I will tell you that I couldn't have done it without the help of Arthur Weasley."

Instinctively, Ron looked around for his dad. He was nowhere to be found, but Mrs. Weasley was smiling proudly.

Someone else familiar walked into the frame, then, holding two plastic cups. "Hey, I brought you some punch—oh, sorry." Harry's face turned red, and he tried to walk away, but—

"Harry Potter! How nice of you to join us!" Brooke Waverly sounded very excited to see her new guest. "Are you accompanying Miss Granger here tonight?"

"Oh, Hermione and I go way back, Brooke," Harry answered—successfully evading the question, Ron noticed. But the distraction worked, and they talked about their days at Hogwarts for a while. (Ron couldn't help but scowl when Harry said Hermione was the most brilliant person he knew.)

After the interview was over, Ron went back up to his room. He wished he'd been invited to the event Harry and Hermione had attended, but he was only in Auror training, so of course he couldn't go to the parties yet. He was kind of jealous, actually. He was jealous that Hermione and Harry were both doing so well, while he was a step behind them. It seemed like that's how it always was. Hell, even Ginny was playing for a professional Quidditch team.

If he was ever going to get Hermione to notice him, he needed to step it up. And not even just for Hermione. He definitely hadn't been realizing his full potential, and it was about time he started doing that.


	11. A Blue Christmas

**AN: Funny little story, I meant to post this on Christmas day because I thought it would be cute, but I got behind and that didn't happen :/ Oh well, I hope you enjoy anyway :)**

Chapter Eleven

Ron straightened the Auror's Certification on the sitting room wall for about the hundredth time that day—and it was only nine in the morning. But he couldn't help it. He wanted everything to be perfect for when Harry and Hermione got here. They were finally going to see what a success he'd made of himself. He wanted to tell Harry, specifically, that they would be working in the same division come February.

His two friends didn't know that he'd passed his tests with flying colors—so much that his supervisor couldn't wait to move him up. They also didn't know that he'd started his own recreational Quidditch league, which was gaining popularity rather quickly. Nor did they know that he was learning to play the guitar—he couldn't remember how or why he started it, but he actually had quite an unexpected penchant for music.

Yes, he was so happy with his life that it was almost criminal. Except there was one thing missing. And that thing was a person. An incredibly smart person with bushy hair and beautiful brown eyes.

Trying to kiss her at the ceremony in May had obviously been a mistake, because they hadn't talked since then. However, he was planning to fix that today, when she came over for Christmas dinner. He wanted to talk about—rather, apologize for—what had happened, and then, if she still had no interest in him, he would forget about her for good.

At least, he would try.

...

"Harry, do I look all right?" Hermione asked, twirling around.

"Of course you do. The past four outfits you've tried on have also looked all right. Are you ready now?"

"Ugh, no! You're obligated to say that. I need an objective opinion."

"What you need is to choose something to wear. Come on, Cupcake, you're not usually like this."

"I know!" Hermione moaned. "I just want to look nice. We haven't seen the Weasleys since May, after all."

Harry shook his head. "I'm so lucky I'm not a girl."

"You have no idea." Hermione pulled her dress over her head and reached into the closet for a new one. "But anyway, I want to talk to you about something before we go over there."

"Yeah?"

"We have to tell them. Today."

"No! I mean... It's Christmas. You don't want to ruin the holiday, do you?"

Hermione, who had been looking at herself in the mirror, lifted her eyes and met the reflection of Harry's. "That's what you said last time: that you didn't want to ruin the celebration. Well, guess what? The longer we wait, the worse it will get. Come on. I don't want to lie to them anymore. What are you so afraid of?"

Harry sat down on the bed. "I don't want to lose Ron and Ginny as friends. I'm afraid if we tell them, they'll never want to talk to us again."

"Oh, Harry, I don't think that will happen." Hermione sat down next to him. "We grew up together. It would take a lot to lose such long-term friendships. Just trust me, okay? I love you—"

"And I love you too—"

"—so they can't be too mad at us. If they were in requited love, would they want someone holding them back?"

"I guess not..."

"So they have to understand."

Harry wasn't so sure about that. The last time he'd checked, Ginny loved him, and Ron loved Hermione, and he was pretty sure that both of them would consider his relationship with Hermione the biggest betrayal on the planet. But he was willing to take a chance on his friends—for them, for Hermione, and for himself.

"Ugh!" Hermione groaned at her reflection. She reached down to take off yet another dress.

"No, keep that one," Harry said. "I like it. And I'm not just saying that because I want to leave. Honest. You look good in red."

Hermione grinned widely, Harry extended his hand, and together they Apparated to the Burrow.

They landed in the front yard, ankle-deep in snow. Hermione lifted her foot up and groaned. "Let's get inside; the snow will ruin my heels. It's already seeping through my tights."

"Maybe you shouldn't have gotten so dressed up, then."

"I had to. It's Christmas."

"You just wanted Ron to see you looking all hot."

"I... No!" she sputtered indignantly.

"Relax, I'm only joking." Harry reached down in one swift movement and picked her up. "Here, let me carry you and your fancy shoes to safety." Once on the front steps, Harry set her down and rang the doorbell.

Hermione pretended to swoon, faking a Southern Belle accent. "Oh my dear Mr. Sprinkles, never have I seen a man with such valiant courage and strength as your own. What ever would I do without you?"

"All in a day's work, Miss," Harry played along. "But I will require some form of recompense..."

Just as Hermione was leaning in to kiss him, the door opened. There stood Ginny, looking beautiful as ever in a white strapless dress with rhinestones zigzagging down the sides. She smiled warmly and tucked a lock of her elaborately curled hair behind her ear. Hermione instinctively touched the twist on the back of her own head; she couldn't help but wish she'd left her hair down, seeing how nice Ginny's looked.

No... it was silly to be jealous, really. She was the one living with Harry. She was the one he loved... right? Of course. Nothing should make her doubt that. Not even the fact that Ginny looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine.

To push the negative thoughts out of her head, she threw her arms around Ginny. "Hi! How are you, Gin? You look great."

"Thanks! You too." They both accepted a friendly kiss on the cheek from each other, and then Hermione went inside.

Harry sighed as he watched her go. "Hey Ginny," he said, opening his arms for a hug. Ginny held him tight, and he suddenly became very nervous. But, remembering his conversation with Hermione, he cleared his throat. "Umm... Ginny, there's something we have to talk about..."

"Oh, not right now, everyone's dying to see you. Later, though, okay?"

He was about to agree, but then Hermione's voice replayed in his head: _The longer we wait, the worse it will get_. "No, Gin. Right now."

"But—"

"Come on in, you guys. It's cold out here." Another voice spoke. Harry looked up to find Marcus, Ginny's boyfriend. At least, he supposed they were still dating, or else why would he be here?

"You're right, babe, let's go inside." Ginny linked hands with Marcus, and they made their way toward the kitchen. The fact that Ginny was already seeing someone should have made Harry less nervous about exposing his relationship with Hermione, but for some reason it just filled him with even more dread.

While Marcus and Ginny veered off toward the kitchen, he decided to join Ron and Hermione in the living room. They were both standing over by the far wall.

"That's good for you, Ron, I'm so proud of you!" he heard Hermione saying. She leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek, and Harry instantly flashed back to his two best friends out on the dance floor, him trying to move in on her. That wouldn't have happened if Ron had known...

"What's good for you?" Harry asked, shaking his head.

Ron pointed to the wall. "I earned my Auror's Certification! And I'm getting promoted in February, when one of the senior officers retires. We'll be working in the same division!"

Harry's face broke into a smile. "Nice one, mate." He thumped his friend on the back. "That's great news!"

"Maybe this means we're _all_ going to see each other more often," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows at Harry.

"Oh yeah, mate, there's something we have to tell you—"

"Harry, dear!"

He didn't even have to turn around to recognize Molly Weasley's voice. Exhaling sharply, he caught Hermione's eye and shot her a look that said, _I'm trying_.

She nodded and rolled her eyes, which Harry took to mean, _I know_.

"Why are you so skinny, darling? I swear, you lose more weight every time I see you." Mrs. Weasley grabbed his shoulders and turned him around to face her. "Are you sure you're doing all right on your own? Getting enough food? You know, of course, you can always come back here if you ever need anything."

"I know, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you." Harry forced a smile as he was greeted by all the other Weasleys. After he'd been properly hugged and clapped on the back, he went to find Hermione. She stood alone by the coat closet, leaning up against the wall.

"This might be a bit harder than we thought," Harry said.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, it will be. Look, let's split up. You take Ginny and I'll take Ron. It might make things a bit awkward, but we have to do this."

Harry paused, thinking of the look on Ron's face after Hermione had kissed him on the cheek. "Umm... could I talk to Ron and you talk to Ginny? I think that'll be easier."

"All right, then." A moment later, Ginny and George walked past. "Hey, Gin, can we go up to your room for a second?" Hermione asked.

"Sure," she chirped, having no idea what was coming.

Finding Ron was a bit more difficult. Harry had to extract him from the middle of a conversation. "This had better be important," he grumbled as he followed Harry all the way up to his attic bedroom.

"It's so important. You have no idea."

Down on the second floor, Hermione sat in Ginny's desk chair as Ginny lounged across the bed, playing with an old Snitch. Hermione smiled; the action reminded her of Harry... Oh, right, she was in here for a reason.

"So, Ginny, how are things with you and Marcus going?"

_Stop stalling_, she scolded herself internally.

_I'm not stalling. I'm leading into it slowly_.

_Whatever_.

"Great. Marcus is awesome. He comes to all my Quidditch games, and Mum and Dad love him. I couldn't be happier, really."

Hermione couldn't tell if Ginny was lying. She probably wasn't, though. Why shouldn't Ginny be happy with Marcus? And, for that matter, why shouldn't Hermione be happy with Harry? A newfound confidence coming over her, she opened her mouth to finally tell the truth.

"That's wonderful, because—"

The door to Ginny's bedroom opened with a bang, and George and Charlie ran inside. "Come on, Ginny, we're gonna play a game of Quidditch," George said. "Let's go get Harry and Ron! And Hermione, you can play too, if you want."

Hermione just sat there, her mouth hanging open. Why had they chosen this exact moment to get together a game?

Marcus appeared at the door as well. "You coming, Gin?"

"Can you guys wait just a moment? Ginny and I were having a conversation."

"Oh no, it's okay Hermione, we can talk later." Ginny's eyes were shining excitedly, and she was already rummaging through her dresser to find something else to wear.

"You don't even have fourteen players," Hermione pointed out.

"We'll do three-on-three," Charlie said. "Unless you and Percy want to play."

Hermione couldn't imagine Percy Weasley ever wanting to play Quidditch. He liked to watch it, but the thought of him on a broomstick was almost laughable. Although, she didn't think she could have laughed at the funniest thing in the world right now, because she was too exasperated. Couldn't they have waited just a minute? That's all it would have taken, was sixty seconds.

When Hermione looked up, Ginny was already wearing trousers, boots, and a sweater, and her pretty curled hair was up in a ponytail.

"We can talk later, Hermione," Ginny assured her, before running out of the room and up the stairs.

Harry and Ron had just gotten settled in Ron's room. Harry didn't know what to do. Should he just say the words? _Hermione and I are dating_. But whenever he tried, they just got caught in his throat. What was dating, exactly? They'd never really been on a date. _Hermione and I are seeing each other_. That could easily be misconstrued. _Hermione and I are going out_. What was this, junior high?

_Just do it_.

When the door opened, Harry didn't know if he should be relieved or disappointed. George, Charlie, Marcus, and Ginny came in and started pulling Harry and Ron out of their seats.

"Come on, you guys," Ginny said. "We're gonna play a game of Quidditch."

All thoughts of what Harry had to do instantly left his head at the mention of Quidditch. "Yeah, let's go. Ron, do you have anything I can change into?"

Ron was a step ahead of him and had already tossed him some casual clothes. Harry started to change, thinking, _If only I'd brought my Firebolt_.

That made him remember Hermione, and he scolded himself for being so easily distracted. "Hey, before we go, mate, can I—?"

"It's just one game, Harry. Whatever you want to tell me can wait until after."

Ron was right, Harry figured. It could wait. He felt a little guilty, especially as he walked past Ginny's room, where Hermione was standing in the door frame. She incredulously watched him walk past. _What are you doing?_ she mouthed.

_Just one game_, he replied.

Hermione rolled her eyes and followed them downstairs, but instead of going outside, she went into the living room where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sitting with Bill, Fleur, and Percy. She made small talk with them for over an hour while waiting for Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Did Quidditch games usually last this long? Eventually she was able to forget about them and enjoy the company of the Weasleys.

After what seemed like an eternity, the six of them came back inside, their faces red from the cold.

"Good, there you all are," Mrs. Weasley said. "Get washed up; supper's almost ready."

Hermione sighed. Would they ever get to tell Ron and Ginny?

When they all sat down at the table, she was put between Harry and Ron. Of course it would happen like that, the way her luck was going today. After everyone was settled and eating, she whispered in Harry's ear, "After dinner. Promise?"

"Promise."

"What's going on over there?" Marcus teased, from his seat next to Ginny across the table. Ginny raised her eyebrows and giggled.

"Oh, nothing," Hermione said. "We were just commenting on how cute you two look, with your matching clothes."

Ginny looked down at her white dress and Marcus's white shirt. "That's too funny. You guys look pretty cute yourselves—Hermione wearing red, Harry wearing green. Very... festive."

Ron turned to look at them, and Hermione sighed. She'd meant to get the attention away from herself and Harry, but that had backfired.

After dinner, while the dishes washed themselves, Harry stood by the coat closet with Hermione, trying to calm her down.

"It's fine, okay? We didn't even realize it. And anyway, in a few minutes they're going to know all about us, and it's okay for couples to wear matching clothes, right? Isn't it supposed to be cute or something?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Yes, you're right. Let's find them and get this over with. We're going to have to leave in an hour or two."

"PRESENTS!" Mrs. Weasley called from the living room.

Ginny, Marcus, Ron, and George came stampeding down the stairs like little children. "After we open presents, I suppose."

Harry and Hermione followed everyone else into the living room and sat down.

"Aren't gifts traditionally opened on Christmas morning?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, dear, but we were waiting for you two," Mrs. Weasley replied, as though it should have been obvious.

"That was very thoughtful; thank you."

Harry began to worry a bit. He leaned over and whispered, "Cupcake, we forgot to get them presents—"

"No we didn't," Hermione replied. "I took care of it."

"Merlin, what would I do without you?"

"You'd learn to deal with being considered a very rude person."

Harry snorted, causing Ron to look over at him. He suddenly became less interested in whispered conversations with Hermione and more interested in his gifts.

The day was passing quickly; they were going to have to leave soon, and they hadn't told Ron and Ginny yet. It was becoming more difficult still, because once all the gifts were opened, Ginny and Marcus totally disappeared.

"Mother of—"

"Hermione, calm down. I'll talk to Ron, okay? If we don't find Ginny before we have to go, I'm sure he'll tell her."

She nodded and opened up the book she'd received from Ron.

Ron was just standing up. "How is it?" he asked her.

"I only started it now."

"Oh. Right."

Hermione smiled. "It looks interesting, though. Thank you again. How did you know I'd be interested in the magical revolution of Russia?"

"Just a guess."

"Hey, Ron, can we talk for a minute?" Harry cut in.

"'Course we can, mate. Wanna go up to my room?"

"Sure."

He took one last look at Hermione before they started walking upstairs. She was already engrossed in that book. It was because of her that he was doing this, really. He loved her with all his heart, and he wanted everyone to know. He didn't want it to be a secret. He wanted to match clothes with her shamelessly, and he wanted people to come over to their house for dinner—and some time in the future he even wanted Ron and Ginny to be in their wedding. It was great to not have to hide anything in front of Hermione's parents, who were already like his family; he didn't want to have to hide anything in front of the Weasleys, his other family, either.

"God, Hermione's so great," Ron said, once Harry had shut the door to his bedroom. He started to get a bit irritated. Who was Ron to call _Harry's_ girlfriend great?

"Well, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about—"

"I totally blew my chance with her a few years ago, but she seemed fine tonight, eh? I wonder if she'd ever—"

"RON! Stop it. You and Hermione will never be together."

Harry's hand flew to his mouth. He didn't mean to say it that harshly, but hearing Ron talk about Hermione like he still had some sort of claim over her—like she had secretly loved him all this time—just made him so angry.

Ron seemed to snap out of his dreamy state. "Oh, won't we? And why is that?"

"Look, I'm sorry for saying it like that, but just because you had a thing with her, like, two years ago, doesn't mean that now—"

At this, Ron stood up. "You don't think I'm good enough for her, do you? You think she deserves someone 'special'? Well, guess what? I'm just as _special_ as you. I'm just as special as anyone! _I _passed my Auror exam top of my class! _I_ founded the most popular recreational Quidditch league in Britain. _My_ boss promoted me straight to the top, because that's how special _I_ am. You mean to tell me I'm not good enough for Hermione? I worked my arse off to be good enough for Hermione. And guess what? I am."

Harry realized, a little too late, that he'd hit a sore spot with Ron. He'd always fought with his brothers for attention, and he'd gone unnoticed by his parents through most of school. Now that he'd made something of himself, here was Harry, his supposed best friend, telling him that he still wasn't good enough.

"Ron, I'm sorry. I feel awful; that's not what I meant at all—"

"Well, it's what you said, isn't it?"

"No, I—"

"Just get out of here."

"Ron!"

"Leave! And don't come back."

"Fine."

Harry was halfway down the stairs, when Ron called to him: "Oh, and take Hermione with you. I don't want someone around who thinks I'm _unworthy_."

The bedroom door slammed shut.

Harry's legs shook as he walked down the stairs. "Mione, you ready to go?" he asked softly as he entered the living room.

She closed her book and stared at him. "What happened?"

"Let's just go," Harry whispered. "I'll tell you at home."

As they said goodbye to everyone (except Ginny and Marcus, who still had yet to be found) Harry felt a pinch behind his eyes. What if Ron told his family what had happened? Harry would lose the first family he'd ever had. He'd already lost one of his best friends.

He made sure to hug all the Weasleys extra tightly, just in case this was the last goodbye.

Once back at home, Harry sat down on the sofa, and a single tear slipped down his cheek. Hermione saw this and sat with him, their arms around each other.

"Do you want to talk about it later?" she asked gently.

"What's there to talk about? I didn't even get to tell Ron."

"You... Wait, what? I think there's plenty to talk about. What happened?"

"He started talking about you like you two still had a chance of getting together, and I got mad, and he thought I was saying he wasn't worthy of you, and..."

"Oh." Hermione understood Ron's self-confidence issues perfectly and didn't have any trouble deducing what had happened from there. "Well, it'll be okay."

Harry shook his head. "He told me not to come back."

Hermione didn't say anything for a moment, and then she, too, started to cry.

"Merry Christmas, Harry," she said.


End file.
